


The Art of Acquisition

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Feels, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroko Tetsuya is a waiter and artist that catches the attention of the powerful, yet closed off Akashi Seijuurou. When the businessman decides that Kuroko is what he wants, the waiter finds himself thrust onto a roller-coaster ride of lust, emotions and manipulation.</p><p>When their game changes, the stakes are raised, and they must both adjust. Who will come out on top?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Game We Play

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is something new that came to me from nowhere, just yesterday, that I just HAD to get out there before the story fizzled and died in my brain. I hope you like it. I worked on it overnight and, because of that, there may be some grammar and spelling issues. Please let me know so I can refine it for better reading. Also, there may be slight OOCness, but I really did try to keep them in character.
> 
> DISCLAIMER – I do not own Kuroko no Basket/Basuke or any of its characters or any scenes from the manga and anime mentioned in this, here story.
> 
> Note (11/08/2014) - I haven't abandoned the story. I'm just super busy. I have every intention to finish what I've started.

Tetsuya isn't sure when it started, when playful curiosity morphed into dangerous desire. It's no matter, because it isn't important. What does matter is the task at hand. He'd just started his shift at the lounge, dressed as finely as he ever was – black slacks, crisp white shirt, black tie, and a black waistcoat. His work uniform was probably the fanciest thing he owned. The place was quiet, not uncommon for this time of the day, and this day of the week. He watched the clock from his place behind the bar. He wasn't a barman, but he knew enough about alcohol to cover for Kagami when the bulky redhead decided to pull a vanishing act.

From the corner of his eye, Tetsuya saw them walk in and smiled inwardly as they made their way to their regular table. Three men dressed in fine business suits, wearing tired faces; his regulars. He waited for them to get comfortable before making his way over to their table, back straight, eyes focused, face unreadable.

"Good evening," he greeted softly, when he had their attention. Three pairs of eyes stared at him with different expressions – steely blue with amusement, emerald green with disinterest, and fiery red with something he'd rather not acknowledge in public. Takao Kazunari, Midorima Shintarou, and Akashi Seijuurou were regulars at this lounge, as well as the restaurant on the floor below. And Tetsuya had been their personal waiter for the past four months.

"I'll have the usual," Takao announces enthusiastically, before settling back in his seat. "And Shin-chan will have a lemon iced-tea with mint." Tetsuya raised his head to look at Midorima, whose face was etched with indignant annoyance at having the shorter man order for him. He nodded, though, confirming the order. Tetsuya reciprocated the gesture, memorising the drinks, before turning his attention to the redhead, who looked at him with such intensity, Tetsuya had to will his eyes to maintain contact.

"I'll just have a coffee, for now, Tetsuya," Akashi said in his smooth, sultry voice. Tetsuya nodded, mouth suddenly dry, heart beating that much harder. He walked away, fully aware of the eyes that continued to look at him, even as he walked away. When he got to the bar, he scribbled Takao's and Midorima's orders down on his forgotten notebook, sliding it to the barman on duty, and slipped through the doors that led to the kitchen.

The lounge was actually part of the restaurant downstairs, owned by the Murasakibara family. It was a modern and chic establishment that appealed to those that were young, rich, and famous – or any combination of the three. Those that were so far beyond Tetsuya's reach, they may as well have been from a different planet. The waiter knew this, but that knowledge seemed to fly out the window whenever red eyes stared him down, or slowly raked their way up his form, settling on his face, amused.

Akashi Seijuurou was in a league of his very own, and that was exactly what made the game that they played that more more thrilling. Akashi had an image to maintain – being heir to one of the world's largest conglomerates came with expectations. Tetsuya didn't meet those expectations; not in the least. But, he still found himself playing this game with Akashi. They'd been tiptoeing around each other for a while now, but neither had done anything about it. And the waiter was almost content to leave it that way. It was electric, and fiery, but, taken any further, it could become ugly and complicated, more so for him than the young heir.

Tetsuya sighed as he measured out the coffee beans into the grinder, before grabbing a serving tray. He made his way to the front, collected the other drinks from the bar, and made his way back to the table. Akashi liked being served last, it was his thing – perhaps it made him feel more important. If he ever got the chance, he'd have to ask the redhead about it. Tetsuya set the drinks in front of Midorima and Takao, and quickly made his way back to the kitchen. After grinding the beans coarsely, he measured out a sufficient amount into a small French press, slowly added hot water, set the press on the tray, and made his way back.

When he set the tray in front of the redhead, he didn't miss the way Akashi smiled slightly. Not at him, per se, but at some thought his presence had conjured. He straightened, a thrill running through him at the way Akashi surveyed the tray in front of him and nodded his approval with a smile in his eyes. It really wasn't anything to get excited over, but Tetsuya couldn't stop himself. He was addicted to it, this game they played. He smiled to himself as he walked back to the bar, knowing they would call him if they needed anything else.

\----------------

“Honestly, Akashi” Midorima sighed, sipping his drink while scowling at the redhead. “You're incorrigible.”

Akashi tore his eyes away from Tetsuya's retreating form, undeterred by Midorima's disapproving tone. He pushed down on the plunger, not saying a word, and poured the coffee into the pristine, white cup on the tray. After adding one sugar and a dash of milk, he locked eyes with Midorima, whose scowl had deepened over his silence. He smirked, as he sipped the dark liquid, savouring the way the warmth slid down to his belly.

“Shin-chan is too serious,” Takao commented. “You need to loosen up.”

“Well said,” Akashi concurred. “Besides, Shintarou, I haven't done anything.” The redhead sipped at his coffee again, enjoying the freshness of the flavour and marvelling at the way the waiter had mastered preparing his coffee. “Not yet, anyway,” he added, quietly suggestive. Akashi smirked at the way Midorima's face turned an alarming shade of red as the possibilities tied to his last statement settled in the other's mind. Takao simply laughed at the taller man's reaction, mumbling “Shin-chan is such a prude” between chuckles. He watched his companions argue before returning his gaze to Tetsuya's lithe form, as the waiter made his way to another table, serving them with professional courtesy and the smallest of smiles.

He'd been watching the waiter for almost four months now. In fact, it was one of the primary reasons he frequented this establishment. The food was good, and the atmosphere was enjoyable, but that was to be expected from a place owned and run by the Murasakibaras. What really had him coming back as often as he did, was the quiet, yet not shy, waiter who had become his playmate, of sorts. Akashi couldn't say when it had started, exactly, but he'd found himself entranced by the well-mannered, blue-eyed man. He knew the waiter found him attractive, and he suspected Tetsuya knew that that attraction was strong on both ends.

They'd done nothing more than steal looks and offer secret smiles, but Akashi wanted more, desired it so strongly it had taken him a short while to adjust. Recently, he'd started pushing at the limits of this game, to see how far the waiter was willing to take this, to see how far he was willing to let it go. Tetsuya had shied away from it at first, seemingly overwhelmed by the sudden change of rules. But, soon enough, he had started playing along. It was enjoyable, to say the least. Encouraged by the waiter's approval, Akashi had decided that it was time to start pushing again.

\-----------------

Midorima and Takao had left over half an hour ago, but that had not seemed to affect Akashi, and, honestly, Tetsuya wasn't going to complain; he enjoyed it even more when the redhead was alone. He watched as Akashi swiped – rather elegantly - through something on the tablet delicately grasped in his hand. It should be made a crime for someone to be so, absolutely irresistible. He returned his attention to the bill he was ringing up for another table, not wanting to make any mistakes. He tucked the slip into a leather cover and made his way to table of a middle-aged man and his... companion; she looked too young to be the patron's wife, but who was he to to judge?

He slipped the bill towards the man, who thanked him kindly while slipping in the money bills. He bowed as they got up, watching them as they left. He made his way back to one of the cash registers to deposit the money and hurried over to Akashi's table, trying to keep his movements smooth and refined.

“Akashi-san,” he said softly, not wanting to interrupt redhead from his work, yet wanting to look into the business man's red eyes. “Is there anything else you'd like?” The redhead's fingers stilled over the screen of the device in his hand and his head turned up only slightly. His eyes were trained on something on the table, but didn't seem to be taking anything in. Tetsuya was about to say something when Akashi's head lifted, all the way, to look into his face a smirk firmly in place.

“Something else?” Akashi hummed thoughtfully, eyes searching Tetsuya's face for something, When he had found what he was looking, he said, “I'm not sure you have what I'm looking for.” Tetsuya's brow furrowed at this, confused. Akashi must have noted this because the redhead offered an explanation, as he set down the tablet. “What I want... is entirely inappropriate for such an establishment.”

Tetsuya watched as the Akashi's eyes conspicuously roamed over him. Though he was fully clothed, under that intense and penetrative gaze, he felt completely naked, exposed. He swallowed, forcing his eyes to remain on Akashi's face even though all he wanted to do was grab the tablecloth and wrap it around himself. Tetsuya knew that his response to the redhead's declaration would send the game they'd been playing into new territory, perhaps even change it completely. Though he was apprehensive, his desire was stronger. The thrill of it ran down his spine when he noticed red eyes, filled with amusement and challenge, lock on his. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

“I think...” Tetsuya started, surprised by the low and husky tone to his voice. “No, I'm certain we can accommodate your needs. Akashi-san.” The redhead cocked an eyebrow, smile turning from casually amused to unfathomably pleased in a way that had Tetsuya shuddering involuntarily. He felt like a deer in the headlights, but didn't mind. It was too late to turn back now, even if he wanted to. He reached down to collect the tray in front of Akashi, when the redhead shot out his own hand and brushed it against Tetsuya's. The spark of skin-on-skin contact shot up Tetsuya's arm, but he didn't flinch away.

“I look forward to it, Tetsuya,” Akashi whispered, seductively low, retrieving the tablet from the table. Tetsuya was left to consider what he'd just stepped into.


	2. A Thing of Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tetsuya fought the urge to drop his jaw, mouth suddenly dry. He couldn't, Tetsuya thought. He wouldn't. Even as he thought it, he knew he was only lying to to himself, because, apparently, Akashi already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Yay! Enjoy.

“What is it, Kagami-kun?” Tetsuya asked as he placed the Yen bills orderly in the cash register. The barman was looking at him suspiciously, eyebrows drawn together in concentration or disapproval, Tetsuya couldn't tell. He watched as his friend's eyes moved towards the door that Akashi and his companions had walked out of just a few minutes prior. 

It had been a week since that day and, while there had been a more accidental touches and suggestive eye contact, nothing had happened. However, Tetsuya wasn't naïve enough to think that the challenge the business man had laid down was forgotten. No. In fact, he was certain that Akashi was planning something devious, but all he could do was wait and be prepared.

“Who was that guy?” Kagami finally asked, when Tetsuya had closed the cash register.

“You'll have to be more specific, Kagami-kun,” Tetsuya pointed out, face betraying nothing. “There are many 'guys' here.”

“Don't give me that,” the redhead bit out, louder than was necessary. “Who was that guy, with the red hair, fancy clothes, and creepy eyes?”

“That was Akashi-san,” Tetsuya stated nonchalantly, eyes never straying from his friend's. “He's a regular here.” Kagami scoffed, arms crossing over his chest, indignant.

“Don't treat me like an idiot, Kuroko. I know he's a regular. What I meant was; who is he to you.”

“A customer?” Tetsuya didn't like where this was headed, so he grabbed a few glasses and slipped past Kagami to deposit them on the other side of the bar. Kagami may not have been very bright, but the barman was tenacious, hanging onto anything that interested him. He was like a dog with a bone. It didn't help that he was unnecessarily overprotective of Tetsuya, treating the waiter like a helpless child at times.

“I don't like him,” Kagami mumbled softly, grabbing for a cloth and proceeded to wipe down the smooth, mahogany counter. “I don't trust the way he looks at you. Like some predator stalking its prey. Like a lion. Or a snake. Yeah, a snake.”

“Kagami-kun, if I didn't know any better,” Tetsuya gave a small smile at Kagami's comparisons. “I'd say you were jealous.” Kagami's eyebrow twitched up, hands halting their cleaning.

“Are you kidding me?” The redhead turned his body to face Tetsuya, shifting his weight onto one leg. “I have my hands more than full with that bastard friend of yours, Aomine. I just don't want to be worrying over you, as well. That guy looks like he would eat you alive, if you gave him half the chance. Don't give him the chance, Kuroko.”

“If you have time to chat, you have time to work,” was the hissed comment from their supervisor, Kasamatsu Yukio. “I suggest you get it to.” Kagami straightened his posture and returned to cleaning the counter while Tetsuya apologised and made his way to kitchen with glasses he wasn't sure were even dirty. “Damn brats,” Kasamatsu muttered under his breath as he walked away.

When in the kitchen, Tetsuya placed the glasses near the pile of dirty dishes while mulling over Kagami's words. He was well aware of the possible complications of this... thing he was getting himself into, but his curiosity’s drive was stronger than reason. A smile tugged at his lips, his mind sifting through all the possibilities that lay ahead. He made his way to the front, purposefully avoiding his friend as he walked to one of his tables. Kagami's warning had come too late; that chance had long been given.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The next day, Kagami and Tetsuya were summoned by the manager, along with eleven other waiters and bar-attendants. It was after lunch when they gathered in the manager's office, along with Kasamatsu - a tight fit in the small office - for a special meeting about an event that the restaurant and lounge would be catering for.

“An important, new client has requested our services,” the manager – a short, chubby man with a thinning head of hair – announced when they were all seated, save for Kagami, who opted to prop himself against the wall next to the window. “It's all on short notice, but the higher-ups really want to impress.” The people gathered mumbled amongst themselves. The Murasakibaras owned and ran a large number of stand-alone, ritzy, and chic establishments across Japan – bars, lounges, clubs, restaurants – so it wasn't unusual for companies to call upon their services. What was strange was the way the lounge was bending over backwards to accommodate this new client; clients begged them, not the other way around.

“I asked Kasamatsu to put together a team of our best servers for this event,” the manager continued, beady eyes slowly scanning every face in the room. “And he came up with you lot. I don't expect anything but the best from you, as always. But I want to emphasise the importance of making the right impression on these guys. If we're able to win them over, the higher-ups will be very happy. Don't disappoint me.”

“So,” one of the female waiters started, raking fingers through her short hair. “When is this event, anyway?”

“Friday.”

Tetsuya couldn't help cocking an eyebrow at that; it was very short notice. He knew that the lounge was fully booked for at least three months. For them to squeeze in an event so suddenly only served to prove how important this client was deemed to be, by the Murasakibaras.

“Also,” Kasamatsu added from his place next to the manager's desk, his usual scowl etched on his face. “The event won't be held here, at the lounge. It'll be at the company's offices. So, tomorrow, I'll be heading out with whoever wants to come along, so we can get acquainted with the place before the night.”

“Uh... Chief,” Kagami called from his place against the wall. “Who is this 'important client', anyway.” The redhead emphasised the words by crooking his fingers into quotation marks as he spoke them. “We never do anyone any favours; not like these, anyway.”

“The Akashi Corporation,” the manager spat out, almost resentful. There was a stunned silence as the gravity of this event suddenly settled in everyone's minds. Tetsuya fought the urge to drop his jaw, mouth suddenly dry. _He couldn't_ , Tetsuya thought. _He wouldn't_. Even as he thought it, he knew he was only lying to to himself, because, apparently, Akashi already had. As everyone mulled over what it would mean if they pulled this event off well, Tetsuya's heart pounded, questioning what he'd gotten himself into. 

He'd always known Akashi was something completely different from anyone he'd met, even at the lounge, where important business men and celebrities were often seen. But he'd decided to take the redhead on, challenge him at a game he barely knew anything about. He'd expected that their interactions would stay small and, somewhat, intimate, just more intense. Never had he expected anything like this. It frightened him. It intimidated him. It also excited him.

After some more words from the manager, the group was dismissed. The other waiters whispered excitedly amongst themselves as they filed out of the office.

“You gonna go check out the venue tomorrow?”

“I think so,” Tetsuya replied. “It's always an advantage to know the environment you'll be working in. I should speak to Kasamatsu-san.” He stopped then, and turned around. “Will you be coming along?”

“Nope,” was the reply. “I'll be behind the bar. No reason to know what the place is like.” Tetsuya heard the finality in his voice, knowing that it'd be a waste of breath to try and convince his friend to come along. At least, that's what he told himself when he headed back towards the manager's office. He waited outside the door until Kasamatsu walked out. The older man looked surprised.

“Kuroko, what is it?”

“Kasamatsu-san,” Tetsuya started, keeping his voice levelled. “I'd like to come along tomorrow, when you go and see the venue.” Kasamatsu's eyebrow shot up almost immediately. He considered Tetsuya for a while, as though pondering something.

“You know, Kuroko,” the older man said softly and, somewhat, knowingly. “I was asked to put together a list of our best servers for this event. Your name would've been on the list, anyway, because you are one of our best.” He paused, brows drawing together in concentration. “But even if I hadn't recommended you, you would still have been on the list.” Tetsuya brows crinkled together, confused.

“I don't understand, Kasamatsu-san.”

“The company,” Kasamatsu stated, watching him carefully. “They asked for you by name.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“You all right?” Kagami asked as Tetsuya placed a tray on the counter-top, breathing a heavy sigh. Tetsuya only nodded, trying to catch his breath, before carefully placing the glasses of scotch, sake, and fine wines onto his tray. There weren't many people at the event – just over fifty - if you could even call it that. It was, really, just a flamboyant, after-hours, informal meeting for the company's business partners. There were a number of important-looking business men, some young, others old, all dressed in expensive suits.

The venue was the Akashi Corporation's head office entertainment lounge, situated on the second highest floor of the building. The layout was quite simple, so coming in the previous day had been unnecessary. On one side of the large, open-plan room was the large, well-equipped bar with its own stock of alcoholic beverages, though the lounge had supplied tonight's alcohol, as requested by the company. On the other side of the room, were a number leather couches arranged around a large, flat-screen TV. In the middle of the room, were a number of modern-styled chairs and tables. Since it was a rather informal event, the company had not bothered with changing the décor, so everything was quite plain. The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows was spectacular, though. That, alone, wholly made up for the plainness of the room, at least in Tetsuya's mind.

“You don't look okay,” Kagami argued, grabbing a few clean glasses from somewhere beneath the counter.

“I'm fine, Kagami-kun,” Tetsuya mumbled. “These people are just demanding.”

“Tch,” the barman scoffed. “Rich folk. They think they own the world.” 

Tetsuya sucked in a deep breath before grabbing the tray and balancing it expertly on his hand, over his head. He slowly made his way towards the table that had ordered the drinks he was carrying, focusing every bit of energy he had on avoiding the eyes he knew followed him across the room. He could almost feel them on him, roaming over his body with delectation and want. Tetsuya shuddered a little, cautious not to lose his bearings.

When he reached the table, he carefully lowered the tray and served the drinks. It was only then that he dared look up, unconsciously searching for Akashi. He didn't have to search long, because the business man was seated at a table not too far from where he was standing, red eyes staring into his, an appreciative smile firmly in place on the redhead's face. Tetsuya looked away, smiling at the people he'd just served, and walked away.

This went on for most of the night. Akashi was subtle in his study of the waiter, always seeming to be deep in thought, looking at nothing in particular, as he listened to those around him. But the redhead was as pertinacious as he was subtle, never allowing Tetsuya to have a moment's peace from that suggestive gaze. After nine o'clock, many of the people had left, so Tetsuya was able to catch his breath. There were more than enough waiters to look after those that were still around.

“Take a break, Kuroko,” Kagami ordered, as he meticulously wiped down the counter, concern subtly painted on his face. “You've been on your feet since we got here. You're looking a little pale.” Tetsuya pinned him with a blank stare at that comment. “Well,” the barman added, “paler than usual.” Tetsuya shook his head, opening his mouth to reply.

“Just go,” Kagami interrupted. “You're gonna make the bosses look bad if you keel over and die here.”

He was tired; exhausted, really. So, after glaring at Kagami, if only to remind the barman that he wasn't a child, he took up the offer and made his way out of a door. The lounge almost took up the entire floor, but there were two sets of double doors at the ends of the room that led to different elevators. The guests had been using only one set of doors, so Tetsuya decided to use the other, certain that no one important would come that way and catch him during his break.

Once he'd slipped out of the room, he leaned against the wall to the side of the doors, sighing at the cool sensation against his back. He hadn't realised it until then, but it had been quite stuffy in that room. Despite himself, he loosened his tie and undid the two top buttons of his shirt, relishing in the touch of cool air against flushed skin.

“Slacking off, are we Tetsuya?” came a sultry voice, dipped in honey, from somewhere down the passageway – most likely connecting the back set of doors to the front one. Tetsuya watched as the business man glided toward him, dressed as elegantly as ever – black pants, red shirt, black tie. Tetsuya subtly eyed the man's attire before settling his eyes on the redhead's face, pinned into place by the way Akashi was staring. He felt like a glass of water set in front of a man who had been roaming the desert for months. When Akashi was close enough, he reached out a hand and captured Tetsuya's chin between his fingers, a smile blossoming slowly across his face.

“You look good like this,” Akashi stated, closing the gap between them before leaning down until his face was just millimetres away from Tetsuya's. The waiter could feel the redhead's hot breath over his lips. “Come with me,” Akashi commanded, before walking towards a door Tetsuya hadn't noticed before. After a brief moment of hesitation – too brief, in Tetsuya's mind – the waiter complied, following the redhead.

Akashi walked through the door, lights flickering on automatically at his entrance, which seemed to solidify the god-like air around the redhead. Tetsuya followed, slipping through the door, only to be pushed against it once he was in the room. It was a small bathroom with only three stalls, modernly-styled with sharp lines and chrome, the air smelling faintly of lavender. Tetsuya barely had time to register all of this before his line of vision was eclipsed by Akashi, looking at him like he was a treat to be devoured.

“Akashi-san,” Tetsuya managed to gasp out before the redhead's lips were on his, soft, almost tentative, but soon turned heated when his tongue licked at Tetsuya's bottom lip. Akashi closed the distance between their bodies by bending his arms – braced against the door, on the sides of Tetsuya's head – at the elbows, fingers splaying against the door.

When Tetsuya allowed him entry, Akashi slipped his tongue into the waiter's mouth, licking at the other's tongue, coaxing it into action. Tetsuya moaned into the redhead's mouth, his hands resting lightly on the redhead's hips, unsure. Akashi broke the kiss, red eyes boring into blue ones with victorious delight and unbridled lust. It was all Tetsuya could do to not turn away from it.

Akashi caught Tetsuya's bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling gently before kissing the waiter again. Tetsuya moaned loudly when slender fingers slid down his clothed body to cup the growing bulge in his slacks. The redhead lightly ground the heel of his hand against the waiter's growing erection, savouring the small, high-pitched sounds escaping from the other. He brought his other hand down to quickly remove Tetsuya's belt, unzipping and unfastening before pushing the trousers down.

Tetsuya tore his mouth away when Akashi's fingers stroked him through the thin material of his underwear. Vaguely, at the back of his mind, he remembered that he was on duty, but the thought evaporated when the redhead slipped long, slender fingers into his underwear to flick over the head of his cock. He rocked up involuntarily, stifling a whimper, his teeth closing in on his bottom lip.

Akashi ducked his head to kiss the waiter's neck, biting, licking and sucking the pale, sensitive skin there, relishing in the way Tetsuya unconsciously ground his hips against the barely there friction of his hand. The redhead wanted more, wanted to tease and make Tetsuya writhe and beg, but he knew their time was limited. Instead, he pushed down the waiter's underwear just enough to get comfortable access to the twitching erection that lay beneath.

Tetsuya hissed at the feel of cool air against hot skin, before moaning loudly – embarrassingly so – when Akashi slide a thumb over the head of his cock, paying particular attention to the slit. The redhead wrapped his fingers around Tetsuya, giving a few, firm strokes before pulling away. Tetsuya eyes flew open, upset over the loss of that warm, tight sensation.

“A- Akashi-san?” The waiter questioned breathlessly. He watched as the redhead stepped away from him and towards the wash sinks, squirting a generous amount of something onto his hand, before returning.

“Keep your eyes open, Tetsuya,” Akashi ordered as he wrapped now slick fingers around Tetsuya's cock. The waiter hissed at the feeling of the cool lotion of his hot skin, trying to obey Akashi's order. Tetsuya brought his hands to rest on Akashi's shoulders, fingers digging into cotton covered shoulders when a stroke felt particularly good. “Better?” Akashi asked, not expecting an answer. Tetsuya only nodded, barely understanding the question. The redhead set a comfortable rhythm, not too slow, not too fast; they may not have time, but he was determined to make it memorable. This was, after all, their game, and he wanted to savour the sweet victory of his first win over the waiter.

Akashi dipped his head again, biting down on Tetsuya's neck before licking and sucking until he was certain a mark had formed. He smirked over the way the waiter thrust into his fist, breath hitching when he ran his thumb along the underside of Tetsuya's cock head, whimpers and small moans echoing off the tiles. Akashi unwrapped his fingers and shifted their angle so he could cup Tetsuya's scrotum, rolling them gently.

The waiter leaned his head back against the door with an imperceptible thud, making a strangled sound at the back of his throat, nails digging into expensive fabric. He was so close.

Akashi's fingers, once again, wrapped around Tetsuya fully, setting a faster, but still controlled, pace. He watched every crinkle of eyebrows, listened to every sound, savoured every thrust of Tetsuya's hips as the waiter was driven to the edge. He had planned to just observe, bask in the ecstasy of winning this first round, but Tetsuya's unabashed enjoyment of his touch and kisses almost persuaded him to forgo complete victory and demand the waiter return this favour. Almost.

The redhead was painfully hard, his erection straining against the layers of material, begging for release, but he did nothing about it, except will it away.

Akashi increased the pace, flicking his thumb over the head of Tetsuya's cock. When the waiter was panting, hips rocking into his fist almost in sync with the rhythm he'd set, the redhead leaned in and whispered, voice low and husky, “you're truly a thing of beauty... when you're like this, Tetsuya.” And, with those words, offered in that voice, Tetsuya came, a gravelly groan tearing from his throat. His back arched away from the door, spilling his release over Akashi's hand before he slumped forward against the redhead, breathing raggedly into the other's shoulder. Akashi held up Tetsuya's weight without a sound, resting his clean hand on the small of the waiter's back.

Tetsuya slowly dragged a hand from Akashi's shoulder and snaked it down the business man's chest and abdomen before lightly stroking his fingers against the redhead's covered bulge. Akashi grunted at the feather light sensation, barely reining in the desire to accept the waiter's unposken offer. He grabbed at Tetsuya's wrist, almost gently, before whispering, “I believe you're still on duty, Tetsuya.”

“But-” Tetsuya tried to protest, shifting himself back so he could look Akashi in the face.

“No 'buts',” the redhead interjected, removing his hand from around the waiter's softening cock. “Perhaps next time.” He smiled wickedly, letting the innuendo settle in the waiter's mind. He made his way back to the wash sink to clean his hands. “I suggest you get cleaned up. It would be rather inappropriate to serve our guests looking like that.”

“I just served Akashi-san like this,” Tetsuya purred, lips tugged up in a smile that teetered on that side of innocence. The redhead chuckled, drying his hands before bringing a handful of tissues to Tetsuya, red eyes glinting, amused. When Tetsuya had wiped himself down, and washed up, Akashi walked towards and stopped mere inches away from him. The redhead proceeded to button his shirt and straighten his tie, making sure he looked presentable, his red eyes never leaving the waiter's blue ones.

“Akashi-san,” Tetsuya started, caught off guard by the redhead's actions.

“We will do this again,” Akashi said, hands smoothing out the front of Tetsuya's shirt – they'd been told not to wear waistcoats for this event. “Won't we?” When Tetsuya nodded, surprised, Akashi leaned in and brushed his lips against Tetsuya's, kissing the waiter tenderly. Akashi whispered a soft “good” before leaving.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

“Where have you been?” Kagami hissed when Tetsuya slipped in behind the bar. The room was almost empty, with more guest having left while he was... occupied. “You're just lucky Kasamatsu didn't notice. He'd have your ass! What were you doing, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Tetsuya lied. “I fell asleep.” Kagami glared down at him, as though the redhead was trying to discern if he was telling the truth.

“Shit, but you're hopeless,” the barman declared after a short, but heavy, pause. Tetsuya was glad for Kagami's trusting nature, as much as he hated taking advantage of it.

“I'm sorry, Kagami-kun.”

“You'd better be. C'mon,” Kagami said as he shoved a tray at Tetsuya's chest. “Go fetch some glasses. We'll start cleaning up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epithets; don't you just hate 'em?
> 
> I hope you liked it, because I really liked writing it. I'm still not great at smut-writing, forgive me. In light of this, I need to say that I'm trying to create chemistry and not just describe hot sex (though I'd prefer for them to go together). Let me know what you think, I'd like to get your thoughts on this. Comments are always appreciated :)


	3. Bijou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akashi had found a promising acquisition in Kuroko Tetsuya. And the chase, well, it was only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I've changed this story quite a bit (title and number of chapters), because it's sort of writing itself. Honestly, I'm not sure I know what I'm doing. Made changes to Chapter 1 & 2, but they're still pretty much the same. Thank you for all the kudos and comments =) Please enjoy.

The aftermath of Friday evening's event attached itself, like a shadow, to Akashi for the entire weekend. It sat with him in the back of the black Bentley on his drive to his penthouse apartment. It followed him around the apartment as he made his way to his bedroom. When in the shower, it encouraged him to give in to the release his body had craved since walking away from Tetsuya. It even slipped into bed with him, coiling itself around him and whispering to him as he succumbed to his body's exhaustion. It was not all-consuming, but it was ever present, slithering in out of his mind when he freed up his mind enough to relax.

It wasn't, at all, what he had expected, even though he'd been the one to initiate the contact. Never had he expected his own body would respond so... needfully. Akashi thought it a curious thing, the hum in his blood when he thought of Tetsuya. It was similar to the thrill that ran through him at the thought of acquiring some, new thing – whether it be a priceless relic or a new company to feed the beast that was his family's conglomerate.

Tetsuya had played his game, and though Akashi had won that round, it didn't feel as though it was enough. By the end of the weekend, Akashi had figured out why. He didn't just want more, he wanted all. Ever since childhood, he had dominated every task thrown at him. Absolute victory. Absolute control.

Games were enjoyable, a means to pass the time, and the one he'd been playing Tetsuya had not been any different. Ownership, on the other hand, was far more permanent. It was a testament to the fact that one had achieved absolute victory. To obtain ownership, Akashi would need to gain absolute control over the waiter, not unlike the control he garnered when acquiring a company. With that, his new goal was set.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Monday morning was the same as always. Akashi scanned through his emails and the documents left on his desk, stacking the important and urgent ones neatly on his desk for easy access. He sat in his corner office – less than half the size of his father's on the top floor - preparing himself for the week ahead; he had an appointment with a potential client later today, a meeting at the Kyoto branch on Wednesday, and a personal report to prepare for his father. When his assistant, Momoi Satsuki, knocked on his door with a request from Midorima, Akashi was glad for the distraction.

Midorima walked into his office, all starched collar and pointed shoes, and sat himself down without Akashi acknowledging his arrival. Tea and coffee was served, as Akashi settled back in his chair, taking in the lawyer's rigid movements.

“I heard the meeting was a success,” Midorima started, emerald eyes fixed on his superior's red ones. “Client Relations hasn't been able to stop bragging over the 'great job' they did.” Akashi sipped his coffee slowly, as though drinking in his friend's words. He wondered if the chill in Midorima's voice was because of his annoyance over Takao being boastful or something else entirely.

“It went surprisingly well,” Akashi offered, placing the delicately patterned cup back onto the saucer. “Especially since it was on such short notice. It would appear that Kazunari has a talent for working under pressure.” Midorima nodded, eyes never shifting from Akashi's. He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully, before speaking again.

“I also hear that the Murusakibaras' lounge was commissioned with the task of catering for the event.” Ah, Akashi thought, a knowing smile playing at his lips.

“Yes. They did quite well. It is likely we'll make use of them again.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because they're good at what they do and, as long as they continue to deliver to our standards, who am I to deny them our business.”

“That isn't what I meant, Akashi,” Midorima huffed, anxious to voice his opinions, yet wise enough to know his place. Midorima was aware that he was Akashi's closest friend, having known the redhead since childhood. His own father had worked for Akashi's father until the elder Midorima's death from a long-term illness. Even so, Akashi had shown the lawyer his place, more than once, when the redhead had felt Midorima overextended his liberties under their friendship. “Why?”

Akashi smiled, wider than usual, baring the slightest hint of teeth. He knew he probably appeared a little crazed, but he also knew the lawyer would understand the depths of his response. “Because I want to, Shintarou. There is no reason more satisfactory than that.” The pair were quiet for a long while, their beverages forgotten as they stared each other down – Midorima wondering how wise it would be to prod his friend with his concerns, Akashi challenging him to do so. Midorima sighed, averting his eyes for a moment, gathered his thoughts before returning them to look into Akashi's, fire sparked anew in them.

“It is hardly appropriate, Akashi,” the lawyer stated. “Especially for someone of your influence and standing in the Japanese- no, international business community. You're courting trouble.”

“The same could be said of you, Shintarou.” Akashi leaned back in his chair, cocking an eyebrow at his childhood friend, hands folded over each other on his lap. “The only difference is that, whether you acknowledge it or not, you are deathly afraid of the opinions of others, whereas I am not. I fear no-one. I bow to nothing; not my father's will, not to societal norms and expectations, not to trivial differences in class. I am a law unto myself. If I want something, I will have it.”

The silence was deafening as the two continued to stare at each other, conveying their views through the contact. Akashi was the one to break the tension, leaning forward in his chair to move the cup and saucer to the side. “Your concern is noted, however,” Akashi said, more to ease Midorima's bruised pride than as a sincere consideration of the consequences subtly pointed out by the lawyer. “I will be sure to tread carefully.”

The last part of his statement was true; Akashi was always careful. What had transpired on Friday had, for the most part, been planned; a test, of sorts, to gauge Tetsuya's and his own attraction. He had been more than delighted at the waiter's response, while being slightly taken aback by his own. No matter. The stronger the pull, the more pleasant the chase. Physical attraction was strong, a basal human reaction, but it was fickle and, often unreliable. It was, however, a good starting point. Based on what he'd gathered on Friday evening, Akashi had found a promising acquisition in Kuroko Tetsuya. And the chase, well, it was only just beginning.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

He walked in through the lounge doors, later than usual and alone. Akashi had just returned home from his meetings in Tokyo and, while his body protested under the strain of his recent late nights, his mind was awake and alert. He hadn't visited the lounge once this week, mostly because of his busy schedule, but partly because he'd wanted to create some distance between himself and the waiter. Tetsuya would most likely have been thinking over the events of Friday evening, wondering what was coming next, perhaps a little disappointed over his absence. But that was what the business man wanted, for Tetsuya to stew in that uncertainty.

Akashi made his way to the secluded table he usually sat at when accompanied by Midorima and Takao. Once he'd settled himself down, Kuroko appeared before him, impeccably dressed and charming.

“Good evening, Akashi-san,” was the waiter's greeting.

“Tetsuya,” he replied, looking at the waiter with mild disinterest. “It's been a while.” A week, actually, Akashi was certain the waiter had been counting.

“What can I get for you?”

“A cognac.” Akashi smiled, small and smug, as he drank in the waiter's demeanour. Tetsuya was a master of smoke and mirrors, diverting attention from himself and his emotions. This, Akashi had come to comprehend. Though, to most people, the waiter seemed blank and inexpressive, Akashi had learned to notice the subtle shifts in the waiter's eyes that revealed more about Tetsuya, than a tell-all book ever could. Like now, Tetsuya's eyebrow twitched upward ever so slightly, an indication of confusion or surprise.

Akashi didn't smile as the waiter turned to walk away, didn't watch his retreating form, didn't smirk at this small victory. A short while later, Tetsuya returned with his drink and placed it carefully on the table in front of him. Akashi eyed it momentarily, before offering a “thank you” to the waiter and returning his attention to the article he had been reading on his tablet. This continued for most of the night, and he could see how his indifference grated at Tetsuya's nerves. He smiled inwardly, sipping at the golden red of the drink in his hand.

As the night drew to a close, he requested the bill, and waited. Tetsuya was quick and efficient, partly because the lounge was surprisingly quiet, and partly because he probably wished that the redhead would leave so he'd be left with his thoughts. He placed the leather-covered bill in front of Akashi and was about to turn to leave when Akashi threw him a proverbial bone, to pique his interest.

“You're rather quiet this evening, Tetsuya,” Akashi stated, voice as smooth and smoky as the beverage he'd been drinking. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Nothing at all, Akashi-san.” A lie that Akashi responded to with a non-committal hum.

“Would you spare a moment for a humble patron?” Akashi watched as the waiter tilted his head to the side, lips parting, surprise sparking in Tetsuya's eyes. He smiled, almost innocently, as he gestured for the waiter to take a seat opposite himself. He watched as Tetsuya's eyes flickered briefly toward the bar, noted the way the waiter hesitated before seating himself across from him.

“I don't think it's accurate for you to call yourself humble, Akashi-san.” The business man chuckled, thrilled at Tetsuya's show of resistance, even when the waiter was so firmly ensnared in his web. Akashi levelled his gaze on blue eyes that enquired quietly, while defying the entire situation. Tetsuya truly was unlike anyone he'd met before; a slim and compact package of hot and cold, appropriate conduct and unrestrained desire, innocence and indifference, all wrapped up beautifully with a ribbon of defiance and raw challenge. A sort of bijou. A priceless something that he wished, more than ever, to have.

“Perhaps not,” he replied, opening the leather cover to reveal the financial cost of this evening's rendezvous. He avoided the shrug his body wished to give at the exorbitant amount, determining that it was well worth it; the drinks and the company. “Tell me Tetsuya, what do you know of business acquisitions.”

“Not much,” the waiter hesitated, confused by the direction of the conversation. “Nothing, really. I didn't take up business studies.”

“To put it simply,” Akashi offered. “It's when a company buys, in full or in part, another, target company. Usually for the sake of easy growth.” He watched as Tetsuya's eyes continued to swim with questions. “Of course,” Akashi continued. “I like to expand the use of the acquisition process to things other than buying companies.”

“Oh.” _Priceless_ , the business man thought.

“For instance, once a target has been identified, one must investigate the potential acquisition - due diligence - to gain knowledge of the target, determine whether it'll be a good fit or not.” Akashi paused, focusing his gaze on the man in front of him, whose eyes seemed to spark with understanding. Akashi lowered his voice and leaned forward, before continuing. “I quite enjoy laying the books open and removing the veil, to learn every secret hidden in every crevice of that which I wish to own. To strip down and expose so I can know it completely.”

He relished the way Tetsuya tried to keep himself from shivering, observing, with great delight, the way the waiter averted his eyes to look down at the leather cover in front of Akashi, cheeks flushing slightly. “If the target meets all my requirements,” Akashi continued. “I will do whatever is require to acquire it, to claim it as my own.” He sat back and evaluated his work, quite pleased with himself. Tetsuya exhaled, his fingers curling around the edge of the tray he'd laid on the table.

“What if...” Tetsuya asked, raising his eyes to look past the redhead's shoulder. “What if the target resists?” Akashi considered the waiter, eyes scanning over the slightly red cheeks and the nervous clenching of his fingers. 

“Resistance is not always an unpleasant turn of events,” Akashi responded, choosing his words with care. “If anything, it serves to make things more interesting. However, once I have decide to have something, I do not rest until I have it. I always win. It is my prerogative.” Tetsuya smiled, though it was a bit crooked and unsure, inhaling deeply as if trying to gather strength from depths unknown.

“That which you wish to own won't be so easily acquired, Akashi-san,” Tetsuya stated boldly, blue eyes finally meeting his in silent challenge. Akashi smiled his acknowledgement and acceptance of the challenge given. He watched as Tetsuya stood and walked away hurriedly, allowing his gaze to linger on the waiter's retreating form for a moment longer than before.

He set about gathering the few things he'd brought with him, opting to pay with his credit card. Akashi stood and walked to the register at which he paid for his drinks, leaving a generous tip for his favourite waiter. Before walking out, he turned his head and met the eyes that had been boring into him since Tetsuya had sat down across from him. The tall, muscular barman didn't turn away, if anything, the burly redhead attempted to deepen his immensely hostile glare by baring his teeth. Akashi smirked, amused, yet unaffected by the barman's warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought Akashi's narrative would give a better view on the shift. It's really just a bridging chapter for the old plot and the new one, so it's short. You should know that updates aren't going to be regular. I'm sorry. Also, with the business terminology, I try to do as much research as possible, but not everything I write is 100% accurate. Your thoughts?


	4. Due Diligence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He barely knew Akashi, didn't know what the business man was capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then, there was plot! I'm sorry this update is a little late, but, you know, life. Anyway, there **is** an actual story happening here, so take heart. Updates will be slow, though, 'cause the plan is still only in my head. But I'll do my best to get it together soon. Please enjoy.

**Due Diligence**

_An investigation or audit of a potential investment. Due diligence serves to confirm all material facts in regards to a sale._

\---

Grey. The colour of uncertainty.

Eyeing the canvas in front of him, Tetsuya idly mixed the paint on his palette board, adding white in small increments to create the shade of grey he envisioned. Tilting his head this way and that, he hummed thoughtfully to himself before bringing the paintbrush to rest delicately against the unfinished work.

Slowly, he brushed a horizontal stroke of grey onto the canvas, then he stood back to see how it blended into the image. He smiled to himself. _Perfect_ , he thought, bringing the paintbrush to stroke more surely against the canvas. When he was finished, he stood back again and took it all in.

Before him, was a faint image of a small, fishing boat floating in the middle of a foggy, grey ocean. In the boat, was the silhouette of a single being, barely visible—a shadow. It accurately represented his current state of mind. His career, his life's direction, his... _thing_ with Akashi. 

All of it was confusing and unclear, as though he was floating endlessly on a vast sea without any direction.

No maps.

No compasses.

Not a glimpse of land in sight.

It was daunting.

His career was going as it always did, slowly. He tried not to worry too much about it, though, because he had a job that fed, clothed, and housed him. It was terribly cliché, really: an artist working in the service industry, to support himself and his art. 

Being the son of a lowly carpenter, an insignificant artisan, the life he was living now was about as well off as his parents could have ever dreamed for him. The lounge—Purple Vogue—paid better than most other jobs and the tips were, at times, astronomical. Though the hours left much to be desired, he was grateful, even happy, to have the job.

His life basically ebbed along to the same rhythm as his career. It probably wasn't the sort of life most would consider as successful, but Tetsuya knew that he was better off than most, so he was content.

He gazed at the painting, taking in the swirls of grey-white fog that twisted around the small boat, hiding secrets and treasures like nothing the boat's occupant had ever known, while distorting reality.

The fog.

Akashi Seijūrō.

The man that had unwittingly drifted in, and permeated his small, insignificant life so densely that Tetsuya barely knew what was what anymore. Raking a hand through his hair, he exhaled, bringing the hand to cup the base of his neck.

Tetsuya couldn't say what it was about Akashi that made him throw common sense and self-preservation to the wind. There were many rich, attractive men that walked through the doors of the Vogue, some had even taken an interest in him—which perplexed and troubled Tetsuya, at times—but none affected him the way Akashi did.

Tetsuya had never been reckless or lecherous. He had always followed the rules, it was the way in which his parents had raised him. He was a proper, respectful, Japanese man. But, in the time he'd managed to attract the attention of the Akashi heir, he had involved himself in improper, public contact—albeit only visual—on many occasions, and he'd partaken in semi-public, sexual acts with the man, while on duty. His mother would weep. His father would disown him.

Tetsuya smiled, then, despite himself, leaning his head back against his curled fingers. Nothing about what he was doing was carefully thought out, or even logical, but Tetsuya knew it was too late to consider these things. Not because of Akashi's tenacity, but, rather, because of his own inability to leave things unfinished. Akashi had laid out his intentions as clear as black ink on white paper. The clarity of the message baffled him, but he couldn't deny that it intrigued him. The scion had some nerve.

To want to acquire him.

To want own him.

Needless to say, Tetsuya had fumed with quiet indignation at the suggestion the business man had made—to become some _thing_ for Akashi to own. Perhaps, it was too much to hope for a functional relationship with the redhead, but he was certainly not going to roll over and become some plaything, either.

He startled when there was a sudden knock. The door opened, before he had even opened his mouth to answer. He turned to find Kagami's head poking through the small space.

“Good morning, Kagami-kun,” Tetsuya offered, noting the tired look in his friend's eyes.

“Yeah,” the redhead mumbled. “Morning. Listen, breakfast will be ready soon, and the idiot is here. Don't take too long or there'll be nothing left.”

“Thank you. I'll be there in a minute.” 

Noticing the painting behind Tetsuya, Kagami tilted his head to the side, squinting his eyes to try and make sense of it. He seemed to hum and grunt simultaneously, tilting his head to the other side awkwardly.

“What?” Tetsuya asked, though he didn't expect an informed answer from his friend—Kagami was hardly an expert on the Arts.

“Nothing, really,” the redhead replied. “It's just... kinda scary. Creepy.”

Tetsuya smiled, small and content, nodding ever so slightly. 

“It is, isn't it?” The comment was made more for himself than for Kagami.

\---

After washing out his equipment and cleaning his work space, Tetsuya stepped out of the room to the tantalizing smell of Kagami's untrained mastery of the culinary arts. His stomach twisted, reminding him of his hunger. He shuffled down the corridor that opened up into the dining area space. Seated at the small, circular table was a lethargic looking Aomine, indiscreetly following Kagami's movements around the kitchen with impatience and the slightest hint of admiration—well hidden, however.

Neither Kagami nor Tetsuya could attest to how Aomine had become such an integral part of their lives. Aomine, a chauffeur for a luxury car hire company, had simply walked into their lives one day, and had never left, much to Kagami's despair. Though the driver didn't live with them, he was at their apartment more often than not, and they'd grown accustomed to it. Theirs was a strangely symbiotic relationship.

“Good morning, Aomine-kun,” Tetsuya offered, seating himself at the table. Aomine only grunted his acknowledgement and, simultaneous, response to the greeting.

It was mid-morning on a Wednesday, and they were dressed in their pyjamas, save for Aomine who was in yesterday's clothing. It was Tetsuya's day off—they assumed it was Aomine's too—and Kagami was working the late shift so they could indulge themselves in the free time.

Nothing had happened since Akashi's declaration the week before, but he knew something would. Soon. As to what it might be, he had stopped trying to guess. Instead, he tried to prepare himself for anything the business man would surprise him with.

“Hey,” Aomine drawled. “Hey, Kagami. How much longer are you gonna take? God, I'm starving!”

“We're not obliged to feed you, Aomine-kun,” Tetsuya retorted on Kagami's behalf. “Be patient.”

“And grateful,” Kagami grumbled from the kitchen. Aomine scoffed in response, turning his lazy gaze to the shorter man in front of him. They waited in amiable silence, having nothing to say to each other. Apart from their similar professions—catering to the rich elite—Aomine and Tetsuya didn't have much in common. A few minutes later, Kagami had laid plates, laden with food, in front of them.

“Kagami-kun,” Tetsuya said, eyes never leaving his plate. “This is too much.”

“Shut up and eat,” his friend reprimanded. “I served you the least amount of food.”

“But-”

“If you don't want it,” Aomine offered, already stretching an arm towards Tetsuya's plate. “I'll take it off your hands.”

“Touch it, and I'll kill you,” Kagami warned. “Kuroko's skinny enough as it is.”

“Huh? Is that a threat?”

“It's all right,” Tetsuya interjected, raising his hand to stop the bickering. “I'll eat as much as I can. You—” he turned to Aomine “—can have the rest.” Kagami nodded. Aomine shrugged, turning his attention back to his own meal.

They ate quickly, despite not having anywhere to go, making sporadic small talk about trivial things—bosses, work, and basketball. After the dishes were washed and everything was back in its place, they settled on the couches in the living room, easily slipping into the familiarity of each other's company, as Kagami and Aomine watched TV, while Tetsuya read. It was a rather dull day off, but Tetsuya relished in the freedom of not having to be anywhere, serving anyone—he'd never been a particularly outgoing person. That hadn't changed at university, nor when he'd met Kagami.

It had been two years since he'd met the barman, having transferred from a Murasakibara-owned restaurant in Kodaira—close to the university he had been attending—to the lounge in the central hub of Tokyo. Kagami had already been working at the lounge when Tetsuya had arrived, and they had gravitated towards each other, despite their very different personalities. They soon became friends, and then house mates, renting a decently sized, apartment in a middle-class neighbourhood together.

Lost in his book, Tetsuya tuned out the sound of the TV and bickering around him, until he felt a gentle tug on the hem of his pyjama pants. He ignored it at first, not wanting to get drawn into his friends' shenanigans, but it came again. Slowly, he peeked over the book to glare at Kagami, who was looking up at him, from his seat on the floor, with an inquisitive expression.

“What do you want, Kagami-kun?”

“An answer, dammit.”

“No,” Tetsuya said, returning his attention to the pages of his book, not enquiring as to what the question had been.

“Do you even know what I asked you?” Kagami growled out, fingers twisting tightly in the fabric of Tetsuya's pants.

“It doesn't matter. The answer's still 'no'.”

“Bastard,” the barman growled out, tugging sharply on the fabric. “Ungrateful b- Ow!” Tetsuya was grateful for the book that hid the smile spreading across his face, as he kicked at the barman's head again, if only to indulge himself. Kagami really was too easy to get to.

“Don't ruin my clothes, Kagami-kun,” he admonished softly, smothering the smugness that threatened to leak into his voice. Aomine chuckled lazily from the other couch, legs dangling over the armrest as he melted into the furniture, uttering a redundant “stupid moron”.

“Shut up!” Kagami countered weakly, rubbing at his head. “You'll pay for that, Kuroko.”

The familiar sound of his cellphone buzzing pulled Tetsuya's attention from their argument for a moment. Absently reaching behind him, he grabbed the phone from the small table next to the couch, and stared at the unfamiliar number. He was tempted to ignore it or simply cut it off, but thought better of it—it could have been important, from his parents or one of their friends. Answering the call, he pressed the phone to his ear and offered a polite greeting.

“Tetsuya,” came a shockingly familiar voice, like warm oil running over smooth, polished oak. His breath hitched, eyes widening, heart beginning to beat faster. There was a pause, as though the person on the other end knew of the chaos beginning to swirl in his mind, relished in it, drawing the moment out for the purpose of brewing an even larger storm. He exhaled audibly, noticing Aomine's gaze turn to him.

“Yes?” Tetsuya replied quietly. He forced himself to lean back, to remain calm, not wanting to sound exposed. He also didn't want to rouse the suspicions of his friends.

“No 'Akashi-san'? I'm assuming you've got company.” The smirk ingrained into Akashi's voice was palpable, Tetsuya could almost see it grace the redhead's features in his mind's eye.

“Could you hold for a minute?” Tetsuya easily uncurled himself and jumped to his feet, not waiting to hear the response. He offered a vague gesture to the two men that were now looking at him with curiosity and expectancy, before shuffling off to his room. “Akashi-san,” he whispered, leaning against his door once in his room, heart beating in his throat, which irked him to no end.

“I'm glad you recognise my voice,” came the simple, amused reply. The words were innocent enough, but, to Tetsuya, it seemed as though he was being given a verbal reward—not unlike one would a give a treat to a dog that had learned a new trick. It grated, causing him to grimace in umbrage. When he spoke again, his voice was firmer, hiding the cacophony of things that wrestled within him under a thin sheath of calm.

“Where did you get my number?”

“I have my sources. But that isn't what you really want to know,” Akashi's voice lowered in volume and pitch, “is it?” A shiver slithered down Tetsuya's spine, slowly, pooling in the small of his back at the sudden change. Akashi continued, “you want to know why I've called, what I want, and why now.”

The business man chuckled at Tetsuya's silence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I missed you?” Akashi asked unexpectedly.

“No,” Tetsuya replied, steeling his voice, steeling his mind, reinforcing the barriers he'd put in place.

“That is a shame, Tetsuya. Because it's the truth.” There was an excruciatingly tangible pause as the waiter weighed the offered statement in his mind, wishing it to be true, knowing that it wasn't—not in the way ordinary people would mean it.

“I called to request your company this evening,” Akashi stated, his voice lightening to its usual, silken allure. “If you have the time, of course.”

“Why?”

“You're not very talkative today, are you?”

“You wouldn't be either if you received a call from someone you don't remember giving your number to.” 

A small laugh.

“Does it truly bother you that much?” It should have. Honestly, it should have disturbed him, and had him running for the hills. 

But it didn't.

And that, more than anything, frightened Tetsuya. What did it say about him? What did it say about what he felt for the man on the other end of the conversation? What he was willing to compromise. He sighed inaudibly, surveying the cracks in his defences.

“I have to be at work tomorrow,” he protested weakly.

“We can end the night as early as you wish. I only request a fraction of your time.”

Tetsuya closed his eyes and bit his bottom lip, as logic and wonderment warred in his mind. He slid down to the floor, ruffling his hair, as though doing so would ease the discomfort of another loss to the redhead. He exhaled, slowly. “Very well, Akashi-san. Where should we meet?”

“Just be ready at seven, Tetsuya. I've arranged for a car to come collect you.”

\---

Seijūrō ended the call, heart thrumming away in his chest as his eyes landed on the file that was laying on his large, polished desk. Different from, yet strangely similar to the other files that were in his office—hidden in plain sight. It was a thin file, unlike the files that ordinarily graced his desk when he was in the middle of an acquisition. It was of the same make, same brand, even the same colour as many of the files they used at the company. Its contents, however, was vastly different. This acquisition was different; much more personal than the companies he'd bought for his family's conglomerate, more intimate than the pieces of art and history he'd acquired for himself over the years.

He smiled to himself as he traced a finger over the sharp edges of the file. He slowly flipped it open to reveal its meagre contents; a few pages of general information that had no true meaning. The bare essentials. Raw data.

He had restricted himself to these few pages, like a small taste of a fine wine; drink too much, too soon, and you would lose your senses to its headiness. Of course, he could have chosen to dig up everything about Kuroko Tetsuya, but there was no delectation to be gained from that.

What Seijūrō wanted was more than just information gathered by faceless men, in darkened rooms, with far too much time on their hands. 

No.

He wanted intimate knowledge, offered to him from the lips of the one he wanted to conquer. It was so much better that way. It sounded sweeter, settled more comfortably, added depth. He closed the file, and slid it into one of the drawers of his desk

Taking was good; it got the job done, effectively and efficiently. But, being offered was something he refused to forgo in this journey he was taking with Kuroko.

It was messier, less certain and more time-consuming, but it was, also, entirely worth it. The act of offering represented a level of submission on the part of the one performing the act, and that is what Seijūrō wanted, ultimately.

To have a submitted Tetsuya.

\---

As expected, a few minutes before seven, the car—a silver-grey Mercedes—pulled up outside his apartment building. Tetsuya was already waiting in the foyer when the car arrived, not wanting to attract attention by making it stand there for too long. By the time he had made his way to the car, the driver had the door opened for him, so he slid into the back, melting into the leather seats, praying no one had seen him.

He had given Kagami a straight-faced lie about meeting with an old friend from university, a sin he had atoned for by offering to do the barman's laundry, but it still sat heavily on his conscience. Tetsuya wasn't one to lie, he detested the act, but he had lied more often in the time he had known Akashi, than he had in his entire life. This didn't help ease his apprehension about the game he was playing with business man.

As the car began moving, he sighed, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed to be prepared for whatever might happen in the next few hours, whatever Akashi might throw at him. For the duration of the journey to wherever it was Akashi would meet him, he ran through a script in his head—many scripts, really. He was so occupied with the anxiety of it that he barely registered the car coming to a stop.

Peeking out of the tinted windows, Tetsuya couldn't tell where he was, and only then did the error of his decision dawn on him. He barely knew Akashi, didn't know what the redhead was capable of. Yes, he was a regular at the lounge. Yes, he had allowed Akashi do indecent things to him at that party. But, there had always been people nearby. A safety net, of sorts. Here, in this place he didn't know, they would be alone.

His fingers curled into tight fists atop his thighs as he started to panic. He heard the driver's steps as the man rounded the corner of the car, heard the click of the door being opened, felt the whoosh of cool air that rushed in. The car was standing outside a large, traditionally-styled house. Before him, leading from the car, was a short path that led to the double-doored entrance. At the entrance stood a young woman in a yellow kimono, a bright smile painted on her face.

Tetsuya sat for a while, frozen, wondering if he could ask the driver to take him home. Eyeing the surroundings, he could tell they weren't in the city anymore—there was too much space and greenery.

“Sir,” the driver asked, after the pause became too long. “Are you all right?”

Tetsuya stared up, wide-eyed, at the man for a moment, his heartbeat slowing at the genuine concern he saw in those dark eyes. He offered the driver a small smile, unclasping his seatbelt and stepping out into the cold.

“I'm sorry,” he said politely, bowing at the waist. “I was thinking.”

“That's quite all right. Akashi-sama is waiting inside.”

“Thank you.” He offered the older man a small smile and walked towards the woman at the entrance, who only bowed and ushered him in. They walked in silence as he was led through the building which, Tetsuya realised, was actually not a house, but a restaurant—one of the finest and most exclusive in all of Japan. He felt completely under-dressed and out of place, as they passed ancient hanging scrolls and art pieces from centuries before.

The woman led him out to the garden, in the middle of which stood a separate building—a tea house—with traditional lanterns lighting the path from above. He toed off his shoes as the woman slid the door open, revealing a large, lavish room that stole his breath for a moment, before his eyes landed on Akashi seated at the low table, smiling at him like an old friend.

Tetsuya hesitated for only a second, before thanking the woman and making his way to the table. The door slid shut as he settled himself across from Akashi.

“Good evening, Akashi-san,” Tetsuya offered in a small voice, forcing himself to meet the red eyes that looked at him in a manner he was not familiar with. He had grown so accustomed to being stared at with amusement, appraisal, and lust, that he didn't recognise the look he was being given then.

Fondness?

“I'm glad you decided to meet me,” Akashi replied, his voice clear and direct. Tetsuya gazed warily at the man sitting across from, wondering when things would shift back to the usual game of cat and mouse. “When we spoke earlier, I got the impression that you had company.”

“No,” Tetsuya said—too quickly, he realised. “That was my house mate. He's a little... protective.” The redhead's eyes narrowed slightly in response, revealing, for the briefest of moments, his usually intimidating self.

“I've taken the liberty of making the arrangements for our meal tonight,” Akashi continued, “I do hope that it will be suitable.”

“I'm not very particular about my food. Thank you.” Akashi nodded as though he was filing away that piece of information for later consideration.

“You're looking at me so suspiciously, Tetsuya. Like you're expecting me to do something terrible. I won't eat you.”

“I'm sorry, Akashi-san. I've just never seen you so casual before.”

“I don't wish to make you uncomfortable. This is, after all, for the purpose of getting to know you better.” The phrasing of Akashi's words couldn't have been more accurate. This wasn't a date. Of course not. Akashi wanted to take him apart like some electronic device. Poke, prod, observe, until the business man understood how he worked. Tetsuya nodded.

“I don't think it fair that you get to uncover so much about me, yet you offer nothing about yourself.” Tetsuya didn't miss the slight upward quirk of Akashi's lips. “Shouldn't due diligence work both ways?”

“I have no objections to that,” the business replied, eyes seeming to glint with excitement. “If anything, I think I'd enjoy observing you attempt to extricate information from me.”

“You underestimate me, Akashi-san. You're not taking this seriously.”

“On the contrary, Tetsuya. I take this very seriously.” The screen door was pulled open again, and Akashi's eyes turned to whoever had opened it, before nodding his approval. “But, just because something is serious, doesn't mean it can't be enjoyed.”

The first course was promptly brought in and laid out while they stared at each other. When the servers had left, Akashi picked up his chopsticks, grasping them delicately between his fingers, and began making his selection, nonchalantly asking, “what did you study, Tetsuya?” The waiter blinked, having not expected the question. Akashi looked up at him.

“Well,” the redhead elaborated. “You mentioned that you didn't study business. I assume you studied something else, then.”

“Art, with a focus in painting,” Tetsuya replied softly, ducking his head to make his own selection, if only to avert his gaze from the smile spreading across Akashi's face.

“Where?”

“Musashino Art University.”

“An artist?” Akashi's hum and subsequent silence goaded Tetsuya to look up at the business man, who was assessing him with keenly, head tilted, ever so sightly, to the side. “I can see it. Yes.” 

Turning away, Tetsuya cursed himself for the heat that trickled into his face, his cheeks tinting a slight pink at the compliment. He dared a glance at the man opposite him, noting the unabashedly smug smile playing at Akashi's lips, but the redhead said nothing.

They talked sporadically through the courses of the meal, Akashi asking questions at random, not following a particular order or pattern, which had Tetsuya scrambling, making it difficult to provide elusive answers. Akashi was the epitome of silent courtesy, even as he studied the artist intently—taking in every movement, every stammer, every shift of the eyes—with his accurate gaze. The air between them was just comfortable enough—with only an inkling of its usual tension—to loosen his tongue a little more than he wished.

Tetsuya noted, though, that Akashi didn't offer anything about himself, content to simply listen, all his focus and attention concentrated on the artist. The attention, itself, was not new. But the manner in which it was given, was different—less forceful, less suggestive, more alert, yet equally intense. It didn't make Tetsuya want to hide or wrap himself in layers to ward off the redhead's gaze. In fact, he relished in it just a little, as though he was being seen as something more than a waiter or a plaything.

Even as they drove home, the atmosphere was cordial, with Akashi being the perfect gentleman. The entire experience was jarring, more so because they sat close to each other, where a simple flick of the hand would have Tetsuya's fingers grazing the redhead's cloth-covered thigh. Tetsuya wondered, in the recesses of his mind, whether Akashi had planned all of it. Did the business man know that the shift in atmosphere would cause such reactions in him? Was this still part of the game? Was it just an act to gain the desired response?

“Tetsuya,” Akashi said, snapping him back to the present. “You're not listening.”

“I'm sorry, Akashi-san,” Tetsuya offered weakly, contemplating whether to broach the question of the redhead's sincerity. No, not yet, Tetsuya concluded. He probably wouldn't get a straight answer, anyway. Instead, he asked, “where did you get my number from?”

Akashi chuckled, a sweet, yet slightly condescending sound. “I was wondering when you'd ask.”

“Will you answer?”

“Of course. It is only fair, after all. You've told me much about yourself, it would be unjust not to.” Akashi turned to stare at him, a familiar spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. “When the lounge catered for the event, they provided us with the details of the people that would be serving. It's a standard security measure. That information is on file, and easily accessible to those ranked high enough. I am.”

“Oh.” Tetsuya floundered about for something intelligible to say, but found nothing. The redhead smiled knowingly before turning his gaze towards the window. Clearly, Akashi was better at this than he was. But Tetsuya was determined to catch up, gain some kind of foothold. So, he, too, turned his attention to the scene outside the car window, realising that they were back in the city, and approaching his home.

When the car stopped, he wavered, wondering whether he should wait for the driver or simply walk out.

“Thank you for your time this evening,” Akashi said, as Tetsuya released his seatbelt. “I quite enjoyed it. We should meet again, some time. Soon.”

“I...” Tetsuya stammered, reaching for the door, suddenly very aware—and a little disappointed—at the physical distance Akashi had created between them. “Yes. That would be nice. Thank you, Akashi-san.” The door swung open before he could even reach for the handle. He had set one foot outside when Akashi spoke again.

“Do thank your house mate, on my behalf, for allowing you this time,” he said, something new, unlike anything Tetsuya had ever heard from Akashi before, laced into his voice. “Kagami, right?”

Tetsuya watched as the car drove off, his mind sifting through the night's conversations, trying to remember if he had mentioned Kagami's name to Akashi.

He hadn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the business theme stays (DD definition was found on Investopeadia), and I'll be mixing it up. Do note that I know even less about art than I do about business, but it'll come together. Just, bear with me. Things are gonna get a bit complicated, Akashi's gonna get a little twisted, and people will get hurt, if all goes according to plan.


	5. Barriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> > There was definitely something there. As to how deep it ran, he couldn't be certain. It would, however, be of some concern if it was reciprocated, even in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are perfectly good explanations for the late update. One being that I've finally caught up enough to have previews. So, here is Ch. 5. If you squint just the right way, there seems to be competition, but, maybe not. Who knows? Do enjoy :) (Definition was found here. I adapted it slightly.)
> 
> P.S Thank you all for the kudos & comments! You're all amazing.

“What are you doing?” Kagami asked from the kitchen, his head poking into the fridge in search of something to eat. Tetsuya hummed absently, eyes skimming over his laptop screen, a little frustrated. “Kuroko.”

“Yes?”

“I asked you what you're doing?”

“Research,” Tetsuya replied, tearing his gaze from the screen to look at his friend, a scowl spreading across his face. Kagami was drinking milk from the carton—again. “Don't do that, Kagami-kun. I drink that milk too, you know.”

“Tch,” the redhead scoffed, unceremoniously wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “If you did, you'd be taller.” That remark was met with a vacuous gaze, and a sigh of irritation.

“Of course. Because consuming plenty of milk will always triumph over genetics,” Tetsuya commented sardonically, returning his gaze to the screen. He clicked through the pages of information that were opened, each one providing the same, vague, mass media information he had been reading through for the past few hours.

Tetsuya knew it had been a shot in the dark to try and find out more about Akashi without the kind of resources the businessman could expend, but he had not expected to find out so little. None of what he had uncovered was at all useful. It all culminated to prove only one thing; something he'd known for some time.

Akashi Seijūrō, or his family—probably both—cared a great deal about maintaining a particular image; one of excellence, superiority, and perfection. He had wondered, while sifting through several websites, if Akashi's father was aware of his son's 'deviant' desires, and, assuming he wasn't, what he would do about it if they were ever revealed. He didn't dwell on those thoughts for too long, though.

“What research?” Tetsuya blinked at the feel of the couch shifting suddenly under Kagami's weight, as the redhead threw himself onto the furniture, causing Tetsuya to lose his balance momentarily.

“You're going to break the couch, Kagami-kun. Honestly, you're like a child sometimes.”

The redhead simply drank from the carton again, giving him a side glance, as though goading him to do something—something drastic. Instead, Tetsuya closed his laptop, temporarily abandoning the hunt for information on Akashi, fixing his friend with a glare.

“A new project I'm working on,” Tetsuya stated quietly, in response to Kagami's earlier question, fingers tapping against the surface of the device.

“Online? You've never done research like _that_ before.”

“Yes, well. This project is different, so I must approach it differently.”

Kagami hummed thoughtfully before sticking his tongue out to catch the last few drops of milk dripping from the carton, much to Tetsuya's annoyance. The redhead's eyes remained on the waiter appraisingly, as though hesitant to voice a concern. They sat in a silence that was not entirely comfortable, which, in itself, was telling. Since meeting, there had never been a moment when they were uncomfortable in each other's company. Irate and annoyed, yes, but never this. Kagami shuffled in his seat, sighing.

“Your friend,” he started, voice gruff and stiff with feigned repose. “The one your met up with the other day...”

“Yes?”

“Who is he?” Tetsuya's thought process stuttered, having not expected the question at all. Though his face was trained into the very image of calm, his heart began to thump harder, faster. He resisted the urge to shift in his seat as he watched his friend, who watched him intently in return.

“Why do you ask?” It was the safest move he could make at the time. 

_Move?_ he thought. As though this was a game. To him, it sounded like something Akashi would say or think, which was a little frightening.

“Just wondering,” Kagami replied, his red gaze dropping from Tetsuya's face to the space between them on the couch. “Because, you know, he's rich. So I thought-”

“How would you know that he's rich?” It was impolite to interrupt, and, under normal circumstances, he would have never done so, but the alarm was ringing in his head. Almost deafening in the corners of his mind. Kagami's eyes widened as he realised the implication of his statement, and quickly floundered to correct himself.

“I wasn't spying or anything. Geez! I'm not a stalker.” Tetsuya continued to glare, unrelenting. “It's just, I was still up when you got back, you know. And just happened to be looking out the window, randomly, and then this _really_ nice car pulled up. With a driver, and everything. I was just shocked to see you get out of _that_ car, you know. So I figured...”

Tetsuya smothered the need to fill his lungs with an audibly telling breath, opting, instead, to suck it in slowly, quietly, and deeply. His eyes softened with guilt as the lies he'd told came back to haunt him. Standing at a crossroads, he was suddenly forced into a decision—to continue the lie and deal with the accumulated consequences later, or be truthful. 

“Kagami-kun,” he said, slowly, attempting to align his thoughts. “I wasn't entirely honest about meeting a friend.” Tetsuya watched as the redhead's eyes widened, his heart twisting painfully. “Actually, I was meeting someone regarding the project I'm working on. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible, for the moment. At least until I know if it's worth it or not.”

It wasn't a lie, exactly. Rather, a vague half-truth that seemed to appease his conscience.

“I'm sorry, Kagami-kun,” he offered genuinely, watching his friend's reaction carefully, breath bated. The burly redhead was still for a moment, allowing the new information to sink in. Then he shrugged, accompanying the gesture with an exaggerated downward pull of the corner of his lips, before stretching out on the couch, gaze shifting to the ceiling.

“I never thought you could lie so outright,” Kagami confessed, voice low but not emotional. “Must be a big deal. This project.”

“Yes, I think it may be.”

“Mind telling me who it is, then? It isn't that model who can't keep his hands to himself? I heard he's back in the country.”

Tetsuya blinked as Kagami's head turned so sharply—it looked as though it hurt.

“That's impolite, Kagami-kun.”

“Is it him?”

“No, it isn't. I don't keep in touch with Kise-san, he's just a customer.”

“Good!” Kagami looked genuinely appeased, though, for a brief second, a slight flicker of something—revelation or question, the waiter couldn't tell—creased his brow, before a large grin spread across his face.

Tetsuya smiled at his friend's protective nature, moving to place his laptop on the small coffee table. He shifted himself over to the larger man, closing the gap between them so that he was sitting next to Kagami. Drawing his knees to his chest, and holding them in place with his arms, he rested his head on the redhead's shoulder and sighed.

“I can look after myself, you know,” he declared softly.

“Not with arms that thin, you can't.” That comment resulted in Tetsuya's elbow suddenly poking outward and into Kagami's ribs. “Kidding.”

“I can,” Tetsuya reiterated. “I don't break easily.”

“I know,” Kagami stated, his voice low and sober as he curled an arm to place his large hand on Tetsuya's head, ruffling the waiter's hair awkwardly. “Just... be careful.” Tetsuya smiled imperceptibly, staring ahead, thoughts of another redhead floating about in his head.

“I'll try.”

\---

Seijūrō had always seen his father's disdain over his decision to take up Psychology in university as the mark of an improvident man. While many people in business would consider the subject a wishy-washy field of study for people that could not handle the complexities of 'proper' subjects—maths, science, economics—he knew differently. So he had continued with the course into his second year of studies, despite his father's protests. He could safely say that he did not regret it.

Through his studies, he had gained the ability to understand the workings of the minds and hearts of man. It had proven to be an invaluable asset for Seijūrō in business. And beyond it.

He took great pleasure in reading people through their façades, unlocking their secrets without much effort. He had learned to distinguish when people were bluffing or blatantly lying, understand what motivated their actions, and how to use that in subtle ways. Through this knowledge, he had ascertained ways to anticipate the actions of his opponents. With a little information, and just the right conditions, Seijūrō could originate the reactions he wanted from people, without them ever knowing they had been influenced.

It was like seeing into the future. Or, rather, orchestrating it.

This knowledge also had the twin effect of making him more aware of his own emotions and weaknesses, as well as supplying him with the tools to rein them in effectively. Keep them firmly within his grip, unreachable to the outside world. Fortifying himself.

In spite of these achievements, he was sometimes—very rarely—caught off guard when people acted outside of the scope of his predications. It was why, at that moment, he blinked in surprise at the flickering of his cellphone light. He was seated at his game table, upon which lay a specially crafted, crystal chess set—a gift he had received from one of his father's associates during his early adolescent years—one foot resting on the chair he was seated on, a hand placed on the raised knee. He slowly reached out for the phone, eyeing the caller's identity as it flashed. Like a warning.

Tetsuya.

After moment's pause, he answered.

Curious.

Impressed.

“Akashi-san,” came the familiar, somewhat bland voice. “I hope I'm not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Seijūrō replied, gaze drifting down to the board in front of him. “This is certainly a surprise.”

The artist couldn't hide the smile that escaped into his voice. “I'm glad.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wanted to find out if you're available this Saturday—“ the pause was so slight, Seijūrō nearly missed it “—for another information gathering session.” He continued the game he had been playing while listening to Tetsuya—women were sadly mistaken if they thought that multitasking was gift bestowed solely upon them.

“I can certainly make time for that. Where exactly would we be going?”

“An art gallery. There's a new exhibition opening at the Tokyo Opera City gallery this weekend. I think you'd enjoy it.”

Seijūrō smiled into the emptiness of his apartment, moving another piece on the board. He chuckled softly.

“Let me have a look at my schedule, and I'll confirm with you tomorrow.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

There was no hesitation accompanying the response, as though the man on the other end was merely happy at his request being considered. Seijūrō took that observation, like a specimen on a Petri dish, and examined it in under the microscope of his extensive knowledge on human behaviour. After deeming it indecipherable, yet valuable, he filed it away for further investigation at a later stage.

They said their goodbyes and the world was quiet once again. He stared at the game before him for a moment, though his mind was sifting through the pages of his diary. Deciding to abandon the game for the night, he walked up to his bedroom silently, his mind abuzz with anticipation.

Seijūrō hadn't expected the call, hadn't expected Tetsuya's request. But he couldn't say that he was annoyed by it. If anything, it roused something inside of him—a distant, primal thing he couldn't identify.

By noon the following day, he had confirmed the appointment.

\---

**Barriers to Entry**

_The existence of obstacles that prevent new competitors from easily entering an industry or area of business_

\---

It was necessary.

Though he didn't want to do it—not because of fear or intimidation, but, rather, because he didn't just feel like doing it—but it needed to be done. Anything that closely tied to his target needed to be studied just as thoroughly as the target itself.

And Kagami, from what he had been able to gather, was that close.

Though Seijūrō had forgone gathering information on Tetsuya, through external sources, he had gathered just enough to know that the artist had a house mate named Kagami Taiga, who happened to be employed at the same lounge as Tetsuya. One did not require a university degree to conclude that Kagami was, in fact, the barman that often glared at him when he visited the establishment.

It was for that reason that Seijūrō found himself walking towards the bar, and not his usual table. He knew that Tetsuya was not working the late shift that day, so it proved to be the perfect opportunity to engage this Kagami. Seating himself on one of the tall chairs that lined the bar, he watched as the red-haired barman's shoulders tensed at the sight of him. When another barman offered to serve him, he declined. And waited until the burly man relented.

The greeting he received was gruff and terse, unwelcoming. He smiled in response and placed his order. Seijūrō eyed the barman as the other moved about behind the bar, noting and revelling the way the other seemed to be perturbed by his gaze. 

He smiled, almost genuinely, when Kagami placed the drink in front of him with a slight thud—a tumbler half-filled with golden-red liquid—ice clinking against the glass. He eyed it before placing his index finger on the rim, but didn't move to raise it. After a moment of silent contemplation, he looked up and was met with a dark crimson glare.

“You don't like me very much, do you?” Seijūrō asked.

Crimson gazes clashed through the tension that had settled between them, though Seijūrō was not affected by the barman's hostility.

“Not really,” Kagami finally responded, unintimidated by the class and power difference between the two of them. 

Seijūrō wondered if the barman was simply an idiot, or was secretly plotting something by being so open. He took a calculative sip of his drink, savouring the smoky flavour and burn of the alcohol as it slithered down his throat and into his stomach, his eyes never straying from Kagami's. Slowly returning the glass to the counter, he exhaled.

“Why is that?” Seijūrō asked, innocence so well feigned, he almost believed his display of kitten-like curiosity. “Have I done anything to offend you?”

“Not particularly. I just don't trust you.”

Akashi took another slow slip, as though he was drinking in the barman's words, and the manner in which they were spoken, rolling them over his tongue before absorbing them. He sighed then, the sound of it bordering on forlorn.

“You're not very entertaining,” he stated flatly. Kagami blinked, confused. “You're too much of an open book, it's just too easy.”

The burly man scoffed, turning his body to face Seijūrō fully. He watched as the barman leaned an elbow on the counter, looking down at him fiercely, warning aflame in dark red eyes.

“I know your type,” Kagami started, voice low and raspy, all sense of respect burned away in the fire of his gaze. “You rich people think your money and class entitles you to play with the emotions of ordinary people. Use them for sport, then throw them away like trash.”

Seijūrō raised an eyebrow, lips a thin line across his face, listening. This man was the complete opposite of Tetsuya—loud, brash, and short-sighted. Which begged the question: How were they even friends? Were they just friends?

Tetsuya didn't seem the type to be unfaithful. Then again, Seijūrō didn't know much about the man. Not yet. And, while he was accomplished at reading people, Tetsuya had proven to be a bit of a puzzle. This new thought rolled about in his mind as his fingers idly circled the rim of the glass.

“I've seen the way you look at Kuroko.” Kagami's voice was like a bellow in the midst of Seijūrō's quiet contemplations. It was off-putting, causing Seijūrō's lips to tug down indiscernibly.

“What is Tetsuya to you that you should care this much?”

Kagami blinked. It had become plain to Seijūrō that handling Kagami was nothing like handling Tetsuya. Whereas the waiter required a soft touch, a slight nudge, the barman wouldn't be moved unless you beat him over the head with a rock—so dense was he. Seijūrō watched raptly, appraising the barman's reaction. He didn't miss the light tinge of red that tinted the other's ears. _Interesting_

Kagami looked away for only a moment before returning his gaze, apparently thinking that averting it would give Seijūrō ground in this battle. In Seijūrō's mind, there was no ground to be given. The barman was leagues behind him, not even a challenge. Not intellectually, in any case. But his presence in Tetsuya's life was troublesome.

“Kuroko's my friend,” Kagami spat out, though it lacked fire. “And I won't let you, or any of the other bastards, play around with him.”

With eyes narrowed slightly, Seijūrō leaned forward an inch. _Others?_

“I'm certain I have no idea what you are referring to.” He sipped his drink, watered down a bit by the melting ice. “However, I can assure you that I have no intentions to harm Tetsuya.”

“I don't care about your intentions.”

Seijūrō gave a small smile of understanding, as the pieces came together in his mind. He downed the drink slowly, making Kagami wait and watch, before returning the glass to the counter with an audible thud. “Is that because my intentions are an obstacle to yours?”

“What?”

“I wonder how Tetsuya would react to know his friend doesn't only want to be friends.”

And there it was—wide eyes, lips parted slightly, a small flinch backwards. Disbelief. Whether it was a subconscious admission of guilt or an expression of how ridiculous the barman thought the suggestion to be, Seijūrō couldn't tell. Instead, he raised his glass and shook it, the ice clinking against glass. It was like a bell ringing somewhere in the distance, bringing the barman back to present.

“I'd like another one,” Seijūrō stated. “Please” was added as an afterthought. Mocking in its sweetness.

Kagami recovered quickly enough to fulfil the request without Seijūrō having to ask twice. The barman's movement's were less fluid, harsher. None of it escaped Seijūrō's gaze. So he waited, deliberately making the silence more uncomfortable, the tension more palpable. And, as expected, Kagami's need to fill the quiet with his voice won over tactical logic.

“You're wrong, you know?”

“Am I, now?”

“Of course! Not everyone's trying to stick their dick into Kuroko.”

Seijūrō's stare went flat. It was a decidedly crude description for what he wanted from Tetsuya. Yes, sex was a factor—a significant one—but hardly the only reason for all this effort. He wanted more. So much more. More than he could describe in rational terms.

“That was unnecessary,” Seijūrō commented, affronted.

“So was your assumption over my reasons for protecting my friend.”

A shrug.

A slow, almost seductive sip.

Then, a sigh.

“It would seem that I have offended you—” it wasn't an apology, merely an observation “—That is unfortunate.”

“Your prissy talk doesn't get to me. Just stay away from Kuroko.”

“I will certainly keep my distance should Tetsuya, himself, request it of me. If it makes you this uncomfortable, then, perhaps you should take it up with your friend.”

The way Kagami's eyes narrowed—like a wild beast preparing for a territorial fight—confirmed to Seijūrō that the barman wouldn't say anything. There was definitely something there. As to how deep it ran, he couldn't be certain. It would, however, be of some concern if it was reciprocated, even in the slightest.

The businessman sipped his drink, but didn't finish it, the burn of it no longer pleasing. He stood up and, after sifting through his wallet, placed a large sum of money on the counter. It would be sufficient to cover his order, and leave Kagami with a generous tip. Though Seijūrō didn't much care for the barman, he believed that good service should be rewarded accordingly. And Kagami, though unwittingly, had been quite helpful.

“This should be sufficient to cover everything,” Seijūrō stated, straightening his posture, eyes cold. “Thank you for keeping me company this evening, Kagami. It was certainly... insightful.”

The barman grunted, eyeing the money but not making a move to take it. Seijūrō smiled inwardly as he walked away. He had always enjoyed a challenge, and Tetsuya was a particularly peculiar one, made that much more difficult by his barman friend and these 'others' Kagami had mentioned.

Greater odds made for a sweeter victory, his father had always said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Chapter 6: Monopoly
>> 
>> A hand pressed against the small of his back, felt the businessman's hot breath against his ear. “Upstairs,” Akashi replied to the unasked question, pushing him gently towards the floating staircase that led to something he was certain wasn't rational. But his legs moved, his heart raced, his mind debated, while the rest of his body screamed 'yes'.


	6. Monopoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >   
> _A hand pressed against the small of his back, before he felt the businessman's hot breath against his ear. Tetsuya shivered in anticipation, closing his eyes slowly to regain control of himself. “Upstairs,” Akashi replied to the unasked question, pushing him gently towards the floating staircase that led to something he was certain wasn't rational. But his legs moved, his heart raced, his mind debated, while the rest of his body lecherously screamed 'yes'._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note, I don't have a beta at this time, so it takes me a while to refine my work before posting. My apologies. That, and I'm busy working on other things.
> 
> Anyway, I really wanted Tetsuya to take some control, gain some footing. So there's a very _tiny_ bit of “role reversal” in terms of how I think people see AkaKuro, but it's not drastic. Enjoy. (Also, I'm really bad with rating this, so I'm just gonna leave it as it is and move on with life.) Comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> P.S. Thank you all for the comments and kudos thus far. I'm completely overwhelmed by the feedback.

There was no particular logic implemented when Tetsuya invited Akashi to the exhibition, only that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Tetsuya had concluded that the businessman always had the advantage because he was always in control of their interactions. Though Tetsuya didn't believe that Akashi was ignorant when it came to art, he felt that he had a slight advantage over the redhead. At the very least, they would be on neutral ground.

After abandoning his search for information regarding the businessman online, Tetsuya had decided that he would have to get what he wanted directly from the source. Which would, doubtlessly, be more difficult than it sounded. But he was determined. Had he not been, he would not have shown up to the gallery, and wouldn't be venturing about the place with the redhead.

It was strange having so many pairs of eyes on him. Usually, he melded into the background, going unnoticed. Which suited him well enough. But, that was not the case with Akashi walking beside him. 

Though the exhibition had not been opened to the public as yet, a friend of his—the artist whose work was on display—had offered him the tickets so he could provide an objective and educated assessment of the work. The people in attendance were primarily from the art community, though others were successful businessmen and art-collectors.

Upon entering the gallery, eyes had been drawn to Akashi, like iron filings to a magnet, and, by way of proximity, himself. It was uncomfortable and somewhat unpleasant, though he did his best to ignore it. Akashi, all confidence and suave in the face of the attention, distracted him by initiating small talk over the pieces they viewed. Something he was thankful for.

The night wore on quicker than expected as they spoke, viewed, and debated, while sipping at their spring water. It was when they stopped in front of a particular piece that Akashi halted, surveying the canvas with deep concentration. The air around them seemed to grow cold in the wake of the businessman's contemplations.

Tetsuya looked up and assessed the painting, trying to imagine what his companion was seeing. What Akashi was thinking. The work depicted two people, embracing each other like lovers. But there were chains around one of the figures, and these chains seemed to be held by a third person, blurred out somewhere in the background.

He glanced over at Akashi, wondering if the redhead was seeing himself in the painting. “Your thoughts?” he asked tentatively.

There was a long silence that had Tetsuya thinking that, perhaps, that had not been a question he should have asked. He returned to looking up at the piece, wondering. Burning with the desire to know, but held back by fear of imposing.

“Infidelity,” came Akashi's quiet, yet decisive voice. Tetsuya blinked.

“That's what you see?”

“I see many things in this piece. It could certainly be interpreted any number of ways, as all art. Infidelity is one of them.”

Tetsuya shifted his gaze to look at his companion. “I can see it. But it doesn't really fit with the theme of the collection.”

“It doesn't need to.”

“True. But why infidelity?”

Akashi smiled as though he had been waiting for Tetsuya to ask that very question. As though the businessman had waited the entire night for him to ask that question. “My parents, though not legally separated, don't live together.”

“I... would have never guessed,” Tetsuya stated softly, feebly. So shocked—yes, shocked was the word—was he by the other's unprompted offering of such insight. He watched as Akashi watched him, trying to seem unsurprised by the information the redhead had just shared. The smile on Akashi's faces had faded, though. Almost as a subconscious affirmation of the sobriety of his words.

“My father's something of a philanderer, or so he likes to think. Though, thankfully, he hasn't fathered any illegitimate children over the years. My mother couldn't handle the entire situation, so she moved out while I was still in middle school. I hardly ever see her. Despite everything, though, tradition and reputation chain her to the Akashi name. And a man she detests.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything. I just thought you might like to know, seeing as you're intent on getting me to divulge information about myself. As I am of you.” Akashi turned to face him, eyes boring into his as though the businessman was trying to bury the information into Tetsuya's soul. “If there is one thing you must know about me, it's this: I detest those who are unfaithful.”

Though Tetsuya was certain the statement was meant to be casual, it felt like a warning. An accusation, almost. He only just managed to suppress the shudder that threatened to travel down his spine, telling of his... fear?

“I understand why,” he offered quietly, maintaining the gaze they shared. “Infidelity isn't a pleasant thing.”

Akashi hummed in response, eyes softening just a fraction. The businessman's body returned to its usual fluid gracefulness, as though he had not just bared a sliver of himself to Tetsuya. He was good at that, the waiter noted. Making things that were significant seem unimportant. It was jarring, to be honest. The constant guess game that Akashi was playing with him, wondering if what was said was, indeed, truth.

But Tetsuya, ever the optimist, chose to believe what Akashi had told him. He held it in the palm of his mind's hand like a treasure, weighed it to determine its value, and put it away for later scrutinisation.

\---

It hadn't been lie.

Seijūrō had provided the information for two, very good reasons. The first being as he had explained to Tetsuya; as a gift in the form of a piece of his world, because the artist had worked hard to extricate it from him as they had made their way through the gallery. The second, however, had been an indirect declaration of what he deemed their interactions to be.

Exclusive.

It was after ten o'clock when they emerged from the building and stepped into the waiting car outside. Tetsuya had declined his invitation for a late drink at an establishment that he knew of nearby, but something in the artist's eyes and body language had prevented him from calling it a night.

“Perhaps, then,” Seijūrō asked softly, “you'd like to come to my home. I have a small art collection, myself. Nothing quite as grand as what we've seen tonight, though.”

“You're not very good at humility, Akashi-san.”

He smiled at the retort, sharp but speckled with underlying amusement. Instead of saying anything, he shrugged and waited. Waited for the response he knew Tetsuya wanted to give. He could read it in the slight shift of the artist's body, the way in which Tetsuya's back was straighter than usual, as though seeking his approval. It wasn't agitation, but, rather, eager anxiety.

The artist had something to prove, and Seijūrō could feel that he had just provided the platform. So, he waited for Tetsuya to take to the stage.

“That would be nice,” the artist acquiesced softly, as though uncertain, eyes blank and unreadable, “I would like that.”

\---

Akashi's home was unspeakably large—a penthouse apartment that spanned two floors. Tetsuya couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips as they walked through the entrance hall into the double volume reception area. Almost everything was sharp and modern, sleek lines with traditional elements. It was like something out of a décor magazine. And it made him feel quite inadequate.

Perhaps, this had not been a good idea.

Tetsuya had known Akashi was rich; the redhead came from money, and had gained even more wealth along the way. But the knowledge of just how well off the businessman was had not settled in his mind until that moment. Akashi was completely out of his league. What was he doing there?

“I like my space,” Akashi offered.

Tetsuya fixed his gaze on the redhead, snapping his mouth closed, throat suddenly dry. “I can see that.”

“Don't be intimidated by it. It's just an apartment.” Tetsuya hummed, the sound was pathetically unconvincing and uncertain, but he was thankful for the weak comfort.

Akashi offered him a drink, which he accepted—too quickly in his opinion, but the businessman didn't comment. Left alone, he eyed the furniture and décor, noticing that there were no pictures of family or friends anywhere to be seen. He filed that little bit of Akashi away in his memory banks.

The view caught his eye and had him gliding towards the floor-to-ceiling windows before he could think better of it. It was a pleasant view, Tokyo City at night. He smiled inwardly, thinking of how it must feel to live like this. To have it all, yet still not have enough.

“Here,” a glass tumbler was dangled in front of him. He accepted it, drinking half the contents in one gulp—there wasn't much to begin with. The burn was unfamiliar, as he was not much of a drinker, but it was not unpleasant.

“Thank you,” he said, cradling the glass in his hands. They stood there, staring out of the window, for what seemed like too long a time. They didn't speak, nor did they look at each other. It was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Not entirely.

The air was charged with anticipation, and that thing that was ever-present when they were together.

When he had finished his drink, anxiety no less sharp with the alcohol in his system, he turned away from the view. After scanning over the room, he deemed that it wouldn't be comfortable to do this here. He exhaled.

“Akashi-san...”

A hand pressed against the small of his back, before he felt the businessman's hot breath against his ear. Tetsuya shivered in anticipation, closing his eyes slowly to regain control of himself.

“Upstairs,” was Akashi's whispered reply to the unasked question, pushing him gently towards the floating staircase that led to something he was certain wasn't rational. But his legs moved, his heart raced, his mind debated, while the rest of his body lecherously screamed 'yes'.

\---

**Monopoly**

_A situation in which a single entity owns all of the market of a given type of product or service. A monopoly is characterised by the absence of competition._

\---

“And this is?” Seijūrō asked warily, staring up into Tetsuya's eyes as the silk of his own tie was tugged harshly around his wrists. Tetsuya smiled, wicked and amused, with a slight edge of concern. Hesitancy.

“Insurance,” the artist replied, as Seijūrō felt a finger slide down from where his wrists were bound, travelling down over the bump of elbow before it disappeared. A gesture that shouldn't have had him wanting to squirm. Tetsuya then placed his hands over Seijūrō's partly exposed chest, nimble fingers dancing their way across the expanse of skin. Finger nails grazed lightly over his nipples, causing his breath to hitch at the sensation, before caressing over his ribs. The touches were feather light yet... reverent. Biting his bottom lip, Tetsuya tilted his head to the side. To Seijūrō, the gesture could have been innocent, if it weren't for the look in the artist’s eyes.

“For what exactly?” he asked, testing the restraints. It would seem that Tetsuya was rather skilled at tying knots, he noted. He had a moment to collect himself and think back on how Tetsuya had managed to outwit him, and tie him up. His thoughts rolled like a film through his mind, until he was wrenched from them by the artist looming over him.

Tetsuya leaned down so that their faces were just millimetres apart, grinding against his arousal, causing his breath to hitch. The artist ducked his head to capture Seijūrō's earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. The businessman could feel the smile that graced Tetsuya's lips when he breathed out raggedly at the gesture. Reminding him of his desire. Reminding him that, even though he wasn't in control of what was happening, he was enjoying it.

“Indulge me, Akashi-san.” It wasn't a request.

Seijūrō's mind screeched to a halt at the rasp to the artist's voice, need having ground away all the monotony in it. He was about to respond when Tetsuya grazed slightly dry lips against his jaw, up to his chin, before kissing him, slow and searching, a hand brushing the hair away from his forehead. The kiss quickly turned fierce as Tetsuya moaned into his mouth, grinding their hips together again. Seijūrō groaned, despite himself, eyes fluttering closed as the sensation travelled throughout his body. How long had it been since it felt this good?

He felt Tetsuya's smile even before the artist pulled away to look at him, eyes dark and wanting, yet determined. Seijūrō realised, mistily, that something was being established. Though, as to what it was, he couldn't say. Not yet. Not while his mind clouded over as fingers danced across his skin. That was for later. Tetsuya had taken control of the situation, and was threatening to wrench away the power he still, barely, held over his body.

Quickly and fluidly, Tetsuya was kissing a trail down his neck, over his sternum, before latching onto an already hardened nipple while thumbing the other. Seijūrō gasped as the artist licked and nipped, the exhale morphing into something of a groan near its end. Helpless, is what he was at that moment. Sprawled across his bed, hands tied by his own clothing, his body betraying him in the most wondrous of ways. Utterly and thoroughly debauched. His gaze drifted to the ceiling, quietly counting the lights that littered it like stars, while desperately stifling the sounds that crawled up his throat.

It was odd, the loss of his control over the situation, though it was not without merit. He was forced to lie there and receive all that Tetsuya gave him, something, he found, he wasn't completely against.

His vision became hazy when Tetsuya popped the buttons of his slacks, unzipping and tugging at them with surprising grace. All the while, kissing, licking and nipping at his skin experimentally, as though the artist was learning the terrain that was Seijūrō's body—along his ribs, across his abdomen, along his hip bone. Absorbing the knowledge that was his desire. Seijūrō subconsciously raised his hips to aid in his undressing, and was rewarded with a kiss—chaste and sweet—to his hip bone.

Despite the delicious waves of sensation, Seijūrō continued to grasp for it, this thing that Tetsuya was establishing. He could almost touch it, understand it, but logic and reason were shattered abruptly as Tetsuya's hot mouth enveloped the head of his cock, tongue flicking over the sensitive head. Seijūrō bit the inside of his cheek hard—surprised that he had not drawn blood—and, to his horror, bucked his hips up. Seeking more of that heat. Treacherous flesh, he hissed inwardly, even as a groan was pulled from him.

“So impatient, Akashi,” Tetsuya teased from between his legs, fingers slowly stroking over Seijūrō's length. To Seijūrō's ears, the artist may as well have been in another room. He did, however, note the omission of the honorific that had marked the hierarchy of their... thing. Tetsuya was getting bolder.

That thought only served to spike the heat that pooled just beneath the surface of his skin; a sweet discomfort. That, and the sensation of Tetsuya's tongue gliding against the underside of his cock—slow, wet, and warm.

“You're awfully smug...” his voice was strained and pitched low, and barely above a whisper, lacking the bite he'd intended to inject into the remark.

Seijūrō chanced a look down the length of his body, catching sight of Tetsuya's wild hair—tousled during their frantic groping in their transition from his living room to his bedroom—and lustful, blue eyes looking back at him. Tetsuya's mouth left his cock, gaze never straying as the artist worked his fist firmly, slowly over the hardened flesh, twisting his wrist just so. Seijūrō whimpered in the back of his throat, unable to keep the eye contact when Tetsuya ran his tongue over his own bottom lip.

The artist chuckled softly, darkly and pinned Seijūrō's hips down to the bed before flicking over the tip with—what could only be described as—unbridled zest, tongue playing hot havoc over sensitive skin. Fracturing all sense.

The world melted away, and the lights blurred before completely disappearing behind Seijūrō's eyelids when Tetsuya took him in further. Relinquishing the reins of his control was a decidedly difficult mental task, yet Tetsuya coaxed them out of his hands like a master. A seasoned professional. He finally groaned appreciatively, long and considerably louder than his average volume. Tetsuya, Seijūrō concluded, was _quite_ good at this.

Tetsuya sucked on the head of Seijūrō's cock, and slowly worked his way up and down the length. What Tetsuya lacked in refinement, he made up for in enthusiasm and perceptivity. Working his tongue over every inch of Seijūrō, repeating certain motions if he picked up on a sound or twitch, exploiting the sensitivity of the head. It didn't take long for Tetsuya to pick him apart at the seams, gently wrenching him open, before Seijūrō completely came asunder. So lost was he in the pleasure that rolled through his body, he barely registered the familiar tightening in his lower abdomen.

When he did, it was just on the verge of too late. He balled his hands into fists, because there really wasn't anything else he could do. Except moan—lewd and unrestrained—whispering things his sentience couldn't comprehend, save for one. It rolled off his tongue easily, pleading, repetitive, and thankful.

“Tetsuya.”

Having picked up on Seijūrō's impending orgasm, Tetsuya slid down as far as possible and hummed to the man underneath him. Then, with little warning, Seijūrō was washed away by the pleasure of his climax, fingers digging themselves into his palms, toes curling out of their own volition. His back arched slightly off the bed. But Tetsuya was there, keeping him grounded as he swallowed, hands pushing against his hips, fingers digging into the skin there. Possibly bruising. Escalating the pleasure.

In the aftermath, with breaths coming out harsh and uneven, he was vaguely aware of Tetsuya's body crawling over his as the artist straddled him. Opening his eyes slowly, he looked up into dark eyes and a small, sweet smile—contradicting expressions of what Tetsuya was. What he had achieved. They continued to stare at each other as the artist reached up and undid the fabric around his wrists, freeing him to attack.

And attack, he did not. Instead, he rolled his wrists to get feeling back into them, suddenly aware of the post-coital exhaustion that rushed into his body. Seijūrō languidly glided his fingers up Tetsuya's jeans-clad thighs, dancing them across milky white skin when the road of denim ended. All the while, maintaining visual contact, as his mind and body returned to him.

“It would be unfair to not return the favour,” he said, voice throaty and foreign to his own ears. Tetsuya smiled again, leaning down over him, hands planted on either side of his head. Their lips were just touching, so Seijūrō could feel the words the artist spoke.

“If you would be so kind. Akashi.” The button of Tetsuya's jeans was unfastened in response, followed by the slow release of the zip being dragged over his evident arousal. Tetsuya's breath hitched, eyes slid shut, and he ground into the barely-there pressure of Seijūrō's fingers.

It was in that moment—with the sweetly tortured expression of want in Tetsuya's face, and the way his own body responded to it—that Seijūrō saw what had been established, what Tetsuya had exploited and dominated. And he couldn't help but be impressed by the artist's acumen. Impressed, and just a little intimidated.

A monopoly.

The artist, whether consciously or not, had monopolised the market of his desire. Tetsuya had become the sole provider of what he craved, physically and otherwise—it was still too early to determine how deeply the artist had rooted himself into the businessman.

“When have I not been kind, Tetsuya?” Seijūrō tugged at the belt loops of the pair of jeans that enclosed what he wanted to get to, unable to remove the clothing in their current position. Out of frustration and impatience, he breached the elastic of Tetsuya's underwear and was just able to wrap two fingers around hot, slippery skin. The artist moaned openly, rocking his hips forward in search of more sensation.

“Akashi...” His last name was like a faint breath that whispered over his lips before they met Tetsuya's, tongues entwining. The taste that lingered in Tetsuya's mouth was not one he cared for, but it wasn't unpleasant.

Seijūrō gathered the strength to roll them over, making it easier to remove Tetsuya's remaining clothing, revealing what was hidden. His fingers wrapped around Tetsuya's cock, spreading the wetness that leaked from the tip, coaxing a sigh out of the lips beneath his. Tetsuya really did look amazing like this—dishevelled, untamed, vulnerable.

Yes, he thought, Tetsuya had definitely carved his name deep into Seijūrō's skin, like a tattoo. He would need to evaluate this new development, because it had not been expected. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the tie that had been used to bind his wrists. He briefly wondered if he should make use of it, but decided against it, opting, instead to settle between Tetsuya's spread thighs. After a few strokes, he released his hold on the other's cock, and ducked his head to kiss at the sensitive skin of Tetsuya's neck, biting, and licking until he was certain there would be a mark. _Mine_.

“You ruined my tie, you know,” he whispered between the kisses he planted on his way down the artist's body, licking gently around the other's navel, relishing the way the muscles tensed just beneath the skin. He felt the vibrations of the groan Tetsuya gave him and hummed back, satisfied.

“I can,” Tetsuya started, barely able to form a sound that wasn't obscene, “I can replace it.” 

Seijūrō kissed the artist's lower abdomen, before bringing his lips to rest against Tetsuya's cock, hot breath fanning the twitching arousal. He smirked at the sight of Tetsuya's writhing form, as shaky fingers weaved into his hair, tentatively at first, then tugging in silent plea.

“That won't be necessary,” was the last thing Tetsuya was able to comprehend before Seijūrō recruited all his knowledge and experience to shatter the artist's sense in the same way his had been.

\---

Tetsuya wasn't sure what time it was, only that it was probably too late to catch a train home. Kagami would give him one of those lectures about responsibility and kidnappers when he arrived home the next day. But Tetsuya found that, in that moment, he didn't care. Lying on his side in the middle of a bed that was unnecessarily large—considering its owner wasn't that much bigger than himself—he was staring at Akashi's sleeping face. It was quite a sight to behold.

While awake, the businessman was all smooth talk and condescending confidence, able to command respect by simply being. Undo all of Tetsuya's emotional defences with a single look. But Tetsuya observed a very different side to the redhead, while he was asleep. He seemed calmer, less imposing, less intimidating. Content. A thing of refined, aristocratic beauty that Tetsuya wished to capture and immortalise in one of his paintings. But never share it with anyone else.

Tetsuya dared to weave his fingers through the soft—oh, how soft they were—scarlet strands of hair that fell sideways over the redhead's closed eyes, but he was apprehensive about waking his lover.

Lover?

Could Tetsuya call Akashi that? There was a definite, unrestrained attraction, illogical and fiery. Potentially destructive in its ferocity. And the sex was good—god, it was amazing. But was there love? Could there ever be such a thing between them? Or would it all end in ashes and tears, primarily for Tetsuya?

Whatever plan he had had at the start of this evening had flown away on the wings of sheer desire. Tying Akashi's hands had been a last minute idea that he had, truthfully, been wary about executing. Akashi was a man accustomed to being in control, taking that away from him—even in the throes of passion—could have backfired. But the outcome had been better than he could've imagined. Tetsuya had a theory as to why that was, and he was planning to explore it in its entirety.

The artist knew, now more than ever, that what he had gotten himself into was probably not the best of things, but it was far too late to second guess it. Because, tonight, he felt that things had shifted. Again. He had seen it briefly in Akashi's eyes as he had loomed over the redhead's body, crimson eyes half-lidded and filled with emotion—disbelief, lust, and a tiny glint of approval. He had felt it in the way the other had bit at his skin and marked him. Absently, Tetsuya passed his fingers over the still sensitive patch of bruised skin.

In over his head, he found that he didn't mind. Instead, he wanted more of it. Wanted all of the decadence, both physical and otherwise, that Akashi Seijūrō had to give. He was willing to cajole it from the businessman, if necessary.

He exhaled softly, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. His mind was running too far ahead of the situation. For all he knew, Akashi would get bored and things would return to normal—though they'd never be the same for Tetsuya. He forced himself to relax into the unbelievable luxury of the bed he was laying on, and the softness of the Egyptian cotton sheets against his exposed skin. It wasn't something he was used to—nor something he had ever really aspired to have—but he would enjoy it while it was, so graciously, made available to him.

Tetsuya shifted about, getting himself comfortable, before gently combing his fingers through the silken softness of Akashi's hair, pushing the hair back so he could place a barely-there kiss on the other's forehead. The spicy-sweet scent of the businessman's hair wafted in the air, and he inhaled it indulgently before closing his eyes to the world and the man that had him so well enthralled, it was almost pathetic.

As he drifted to sleep, Tetsuya missed the slight smile that tugged at Akashi's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Chapter 7: Monopsony
>> 
>> _Seijūrō now found himself in a situation he had initiated, confident—certain, really—in his inevitable victory. But in the span of one night, perhaps more, with satisfyingly brilliant sexual gratification, he had found himself in a muddle of things he wasn't familiar with. The goal remained the same. If anything, the desire to have Kuroko was greater than ever. But the strategy, the tactics, he used had begun to blur._   
> 


End file.
